THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


ELSIE'S 
WOMANHOOD 


A  SEQUEL  TO 

"ELSIE'S  GIRLHOOD1 

BY 

MARTHA  FINLEY 


•A  perfect  woman,  nobly  plann'd 
To  warn,  to  comfort  and  command ; 
And  yet  a  spirit  still,  and  bright, 
With  something  of  an  angel  light." 

—  WORDSWORTH 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1875,  by 

DODD  &  MEAD 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 

COPYRIGHT,  1903, 
BY  MARTHA  FINLEY 

COPYRIGHT,  1917, 
BY  CHARLES  B.  FINLEY 


r  b 


Preface. 


THE  call  for  a  sequel  to  "Elsie's  Girlhood"  having 
become  too  loud  and  importunate  to  be  resisted,  the 
pleasant  task  of  writing  it  was  undertaken. 

Dates  compelled  the  bringing  in  of  the  late  war :  and 
it  has  been  the  earnest  desire  and  effort  of  the  author  to 
so  treat  the  subject  as  to  wound  the  feelings  of  none ;  to 
be  as  impartial  as  if  writing  history ;  and,  by  drawing  a 
true,  though  alas,  but  faint  picture,  of  the  great  losses 
and  sufferings  on  both  sides,  to  make  the  very  thought 
of  a  renewal  of  the  awful  strife  utterly  abhorrent  to  every 
lover  of  humanity,  and  especially  of  this,  our  own  dear 
native  land. 

Are  we  not  one  people :  speaking  the  same  language ; 
worshipping  the  one  true  and  living  God ;  having  a  com- 
mon history,  a  common  ancestry;  and  united  by  the 
tenderest  ties  of  blood?  And  is  not  this  great  grand, 
glorious  old  Union — known  and  respected  all  over  the 
world — our  common  country,  our  joy  and  pride  ?  O  ! 
let  us  forget  all  bitterness,  and  live  henceforth  in  love, 
harmony,  and  mutual  helpfulness. 

For  all  I  know  of  the  Teche  country  I  am  indebted  to 
Mr.  Edward  King's  "Old  and  New  Louisiana";  for 
facts  and  dates  in  regard  to  the  war,  and  in  large  measure 
iii 


5ES1S2 


hr  PREFACE. 

for  Mr.  Dinsmore's  views  as  to  its  causes,  etc.,  principally 
to  Headley's  "  History  of  the  Great  Rebellion." 

The  description  of  Andersonville,  and  the  life  led  by 
the  prisoners  there,  was  supplied  by  one  who  shared  it  for 
six  months.  An  effort  was  made  to  obtain  a  sketch  of  a 
Northern  prison  also,  but  without  success. 

Yet  what  need  to  balance  accounts  in  respect  to  these 
matters  ?  The  unnatural  strife  is  over,  and  we  are  again 
one  united  people. 

M.  F. 


CHAPTER  FIRST. 

«'  Oh !  there  is  one  affection  which  no  stain 

Of  earth  can  ever  darken ; — when  two  find, 
The  softer  and  the  manlier,  that  a  chain 

Of  kindred  taste  has  fastened  mind  to  mind." 

— PERCIVAL'S  POEMS. 

IN  one  of  the  cool  green  alleys  at  the  Oaks,  Rose  and 
Adelaide  Dinsmore  were  pacing  slowly  to  and  fro,  each 
with  an  arm  about  the  other's  waist,  in  girlish  fashion, 
while  they  conversed  together  in  low,  confidential  tones. 

At  a  little  distance  to  one  side,  the  young  son  and  heir 
had  thrown  himself  prone  upon  the  grass  in  the  shade  of 
a  magnificent  oak,  story-book  in  hand.  Much  interested 
he  seemed  in  his  book,  yet  occasionally  his  eye  would 
wander  from  its  fascinating  pages  to  watch,  with  pride 
and  delight,  the  tiny  Rosebud  steady  herself  against  a 
tree,  then  run  with  eager,  tottering  steps  and  a  crow  of 
delight  into  her  nurse's  outstretched  arms,  to  be  hugged, 
kissed,  praised,  and  coaxed  to  try  it  over  again. 

As  Rose  and  Adelaide  turned  at  one  end  of  the  alley, 
Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  entered  it  at  the  other.  Hurriedly 
approaching  the  little  toddler,  he  stooped  and  held  out 
his  hands,  saying,  in  tender,  half-tremulous  tones,  "  Come, 
darling,  come  to  papa." 

She  ran  into  his  arms,  crying,  "Papa,"  in  her  sweet 
baby  voice,  and  catching  her  up,  he  covered  her  face 
I 


2  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

with  kisses;  then,  holding  her  clasped  fondly  to  his 
breast,  walked  on  towards  his  wife  and  sister. 

"What  is  it,  Horace?"  asked  Rose  anxiously,  as 
they  neared  each  other ;  for  she  saw  that  his  face  was 
pale  and  troubled. 

"I  bring  you  strange  tidings,  my  Rose,"  he  answered 
low  and  sadly,  as  she  laid  her  hand  upon  his  arm  with 
an  affectionate  look  up  into  his  face. 

Hers  grew  pale.  "Bad  news  from  home?"  she  al- 
most gasped. 

" No,  no;  I've  had  no  word  from  our  absent  relatives 
or  friends,  and  I'm  not  sure  I  ought  to  call  it  bad  news 
either ;  though  I  cannot  yet  think  of  it  with  equanimity, 
it  has  come  upon  me  so  suddenly." 

"What?"  asked  both  ladies  in  a  breath;  "don't 
keep  us  in  suspense." 

"It  has  been  going  on  for  years — on  his  part — I  can 
see  it  now — but,  blind  fool  that  I  was,  I  never  suspected 
it  till  to-day,  when  it  came  upon  me  like  a  thunderbolt." 

"What?  who?" 

"Tra villa;  after  years  of  patient  waiting  he  has  won 
her  at  last — our  darling — and — and  I've  given  her  to 
him." 

Both  ladies  stood  dumb  with  astonishment,  while 
young  Horace,  who  had  come  running  up  in  time  to 
catch  the  last  words,  cried  out  with  vehemence,  "  Papa  ! 
what !  give  our  Elsie  away  ?  how  could  you  ?  how  can 
we  ever  do  without  her  ?  But  she  shan't  go,  for  she  be- 
longs to  me  too,  and  I'll  never  give  consent !  " 

Mr.  Dinsmore  and  the  ladies  smiled  faintly. 

"  They  seemed  to  think  mine  quite  sufficient,  Horace," 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  3 

replied  his  father,  "  and  I'm  afraid  will  hardly  consider 
it  necessary  to  ask  yours." 

"But,  papa,  we  can't  spare  her — you  know  we  can't 
-~and  why  should  you  go  and  give  her  away  to  Mr. 
Travilla  or  anybody  ?  " 

"My  son,  had  I  refused,  it  would  have  caused  her 
great  unhappiness. " 

"Then  she  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  go  and  love  Mr. 
Travilla  better  than  you  and  all  of  us." 

"I  was  never  more  astonished  in  my  life!"  cried 
Adelaide. 

"  Nor  I,"  said  Rose.  "  And  he's  a  great  deal  too  old 
for  her." 

"That  is  an  objection,"  replied  her  husband,  "but 
if  not  insuperable  to  her,  need  not  be  to  us." 

"  Think  of  your  intimate  friend  addressing  you  as 
father  !  "  laughed  Adelaide  ;  "it's  really  too  ridiculous." 

"  That  need  not  be — is  not  an  inevitable  consequence 
of  the  match,"  smiled  Mr.  Dinsmore,  softly  caressing  the 
little  one  clinging  about  his  neck. 

Still  conversing  on  the  same  subject,  the  minds  of  all 
being  full  of  it  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other,  they 
moved  on  as  if  by  common  consent  towards  the  house. 

"  Do  you  think  it  can  be  possible  that  she  is  really  and 
truly  in  love  with  him?"  queried  Rose;  "a  man  so 
much  older  than  herself,  and  so  intimate  in  the  family 
since  her  early  childhood." 

"  Judge  for  yourself,  my  dear,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  as 
a  turn  in  the  path  brought  them  within  a  few  yards  of 
the  lovers,  who  were  moving  slowly  in  their  direction 
so  that  the  two  parties  must  meet  in  another  moment. 


4  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

One  glance  at  the  beaming  faces,  the  rich  color  coming 
and  going  in  Elsie's  cheek,  the  soft,  glad  light  in  her 
sweet  brown  eyes,  was  a  sufficient  reply  to  Rose's  ques- 
tion. She  looked  at  her  husband  with  a  satisfied  smile, 
which  he  returned. 

But  little  Horace,  leaving  his  father's  side,  rushed  up 
to  Elsie,  and  catching  her  hand  in  his,  cried,  "I'll  never 
give  my  consent !  and  you  belong  to  me.  Mr.  Travilla, 
you  can't  have  her." 

To  the  child's  surprise  Elsie  only  blushed  and  smiled, 
while  Mr.  Travilla,  without  the  slightest  appearance  of 
alarm  or  vexation,  said,  "  Ah,  my  dear  boy,  you  may 
just  as  well ;  for  she  is  willing  to  be  mine  and  your  papa 
has  given  her  tome." 

But  the  others  had  come  up,  and  inquiring  looks, 
smiles  and  kindly  greetings  were  exchanged. 

"  Mr.  Travilla,"  said  Rose,  half  playfully  but  with  a 
tear  trembling  in  her  eye,  "  you  have  stolen  a  march  upon 
us,  and  I  can  hardly  forgive  you  just  yet." 

"I  regret  that  exceedingly,  my  dear  madam,"  he 
answered,  with  a  smile  that  belied  his  words.  "But 
Miss  Adelaide,  you  will  still  stand  my  friend  ?  " 

"I  don't  know,"  she  answered  demurely;  "there's 
only  one  serious  objection  in  my  mind  (if  Elsie  is  satis- 
fied) ;  that  I  don't  quite  fancy  having  a  nephew  some 
years  older  than  myself." 

"  Ah !  well,  I  shall  be  quite  willing  to  be  considered 
a  brother-in-law." 

"Company  to  dinner  !  "  shouted  Horace.  "I  see  a 
carriage ;  don't  you,  papa  ?  " 

"It  is  your  Uncle  Edward's,"  said  Mr.  Travilla. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  5 

"  Yes,"  said  Adelaide,  "Lora  and  her  tribe  are  in  it, 
no  doubt;  and  probably  Mrs.  Bowles  too  (Carrie 
Howard  you  know,  Elsie).  They  have  been  late  in 
calling." 

"  Some  good  reason  for  it,  and  they  are  none  the  less 
welcome,"  remarked  Rose,  quickening  her  pace. 

The  one  party  reached  the  house  just  as  the  other  two 
had  fairly  alighted,  and  a  scene  of  joyous  greeting 
ensued. 

"  You  dear  child  !  how  good  of  you  to  corne  back  to 
us  again,  and  single  too,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Bowles,  clasp- 
ing Elsie  in  a  warm  embrace ;  "I'd  almost  given  it  up, 
and  expected  by  every  mail  to  hear  you  had  become 
Lady  or  Countess  this,  or  Duchess  that." 

Elsie  smiled  and  blushed,  and  meeting  the  eye  of  her 
betrothed  fixed  for  an  instant  upon  her  with  an  ex- 
pression of  unutterable  content,  thankfulness,  love  and 
pride,  smiled  and  blushed  again. 

Carrie  caught  the  look  and  its  effect  upon  her  friend, 
and  almost  breathless  with  astonishment,  took  the  first 
opportunity,  after  all  were  seated  in  the  drawing-room, 
to  prefer  a  whispered  request  to  be  taken  to  Elsie's  own 
private  apartment  for  a  moment,  to  see  that  her  hair  and 
dress  were  in  proper  order. 

They  had  come  to  spend  the  day,  and  bonnets  and 
shawls  had  already  been  carried  away  by  the  servants  in 
attendance. 

"Now  girls,  don't  run  off  for  an  interminable  chat  by 
yourselves,"  said  Mrs.  Howard,  as  the  two  rose  and 
crossed  the  room  together. 

"No,  Aunt  Lora,   we'll  not  stay  long,"    said  Elsie; 


6  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

f"*or  I  want  to  improve  every  moment  of  your  visit,  in 

renewing   my   acquaintance   with   you   and   my   young 

cousins." 

u   "  Your  family  has  grown,  Lora,"  remarked  her  brother. 

"  Yes,  rather  faster  than  yours,"  she  said,  looking 
round  with  pride  upon  her  little  group  of  four  boys,  and 
a  girl  yet  in  her  nurse's  arms.  "  Go  and  speak  to  your 
uncle,  Ned,  Walter,  Horace,  and  Arthur.  You  see  I 
have  given  you  a  namesake ;  and  this  little  pet  we  call 
Rose  Louise,  for  her  two  aunties.  Yours  is  Rose,  too ! 
and  what  a  darling !  and  how  little  Horace  has 
grown  !  " 

"Elsie,  it  can't  be  possible!"  cried  Carrie,  the 
instant  they  found  themselves  alone. 

"What  can't?"  and  Elsie's  blush  and  smile  were 
charming. 

"That  you  and  Mr.  Tra villa  are  lovers  !  I  saw  it  in 
your  faces;  but,  'tis  too  absurd  !  Why,  he's  your  father's 
friend,  and  nearly  as  old." 

"  All  the  wiser  and  better  for  that,  Carrie,  dear. 
But  he  is  young  in  heart,  and  far  from  looking  old,  I 

t  think.  I  have  grown  so  sick  of  your  silly,  brainless 
fops,  who  expect  women  neither  to  talk  sense  nor  under- 
stand it." 

"Ah,  I  dare  say  !  and  Mr.  Travilla  is  the  most  sensi- 
ble and  polished  of  men — always  excepting  my  own 
spouse,  of  course.  And  you  won't  be  taken  away  from 
us ;  so  I  give  my  consent." 

Elsie's  only  answer  was  a  mirthful,  amused  look. 

"  Oh,  but  I  am  glad  to  see  you  back  !  "  Carrie  ran  on. 
"It  seems  an  age  since  you  went  away." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  7 

"Thank  you.     And  your  husband?  what  is  he  like?" 

"I  was  never  good  at  description,  but  he  is  a  fine 
specimen  of  a  Kentucky  planter,  and  very  fond  of  his 
wife.  By  the  way,  you  must  blame  me  that  Edward 
and  Lora  were  so  late  in  welcoming  you  home.  I  arrived 
only  yesterday  morning,  quite  fatigued  with  my  journey, 
and  begged  them  to  wait  till  to-day,  and  bring  me  with 
them." 

"  That  was  right.  We  have  not  seen  Enna  yet,  or 
Arthur.  Grandpa  and  Mrs.  Dinsmore  and  Walter  called 
yesterday.  But  there  is  the  dinner-bell.  Let  me  con- 
duct you  to  the  dining-room." 

They  were  just  in  time  to  sit  down  with  the  others. 

Elsie  quickly  perceived  by  her  Aunt  Lora's  look  and 
manner,  that  she,  too,  had  heard  the  news,  but  no  re- 
mark was  make  on  the  subject  till  the  ladies  had  retired 
to  the  drawing-room,  leaving  the  gentlemen  to  the  en- 
joyment of  their  after-dinner  cigars. 

Then  Mrs.  Howard,  facing  round  upon  her  niece  as 
they  entered  the  room,  exclaimed,  "Elsie,  you  naughty 
child  !  are  you  not  ashamed  of  yourself?  " 

"On  account  of  what,  auntie?" 

"Such  unconscious  innocence !  "  cried  Lora,  throwing 
up  the  white  and  jeweled  hands  she  had  rested  lightly 
for  an  instant  upon  the  young  girl's  shoulder,  while  ga- 
zing steadily  into  the  smiling,  blushing,  sparkling  face. 
"  You  haven't  been  planning  and  promising  to  give 
Adelaide  and  me  a  nephew  older  than  ourselves  ?  I  tell 
you,  miss,  I  refuse  my  consent.  Why,  it's  absurb  !  the 
very  idea  !  I  used  to  think  him  almost  an  elderly  gen- 
tleman when  you  were  a  chit  of  eight  or  nine." 


8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  I  remember  having  had  some  such  idea  myself; 
but  he  must  have  been  growing  young  since  then,"  re- 
turned Elsie,  demurely. 

"  He  seems  to  have  been  standing  still  (waiting  for 
you,  I  suppose)  ;  but  I  never  was  more  astonished  in  my 
life  !  "  said  Lora,  dropping  into  a  chair. 

"  It  has  been  a  genuine  surprise  to  us  all,"  remarked 
Rose. 

"To  me  as  much  as  anyone,  mamma,"  said  Elsie. 
"I — had  thought  he  was  engaged  to  you,  Aunt  Adie." 

"  To  me,  child  !  " 

"  Why,  my  dear,  I  surely  told  you  about  her  engage- 
ment to  my  brother  Edward? "  exclaimed  Adelaide  and 
Rose  simultaneously. 

"  You  tried,  mamma,  and  it  was  all  my  own  fault  that 
I  did  not  hear  the  whole  truth.  And,  Aunt  Adie,  I  can- 
not understand  how  he  could  ever  fancy  me,  while  he 
might  have  hoped  there  was  a  possibility  of  winning 
you." 

"  'Twould  have  been  a  much  more  suitable  match," 
said  Lora.  "Though  I'd  have  preferred  the  one  in 
contemplation,  except  that  in  the  other  case,  she  would 
not  be  carried  quite  away  from  us.  But  suppose  we  pro- 
ceed to  business.  We  should  have  a  double  wedding,  I 
think." 

"  Oh,  don't  talk  of  it  yet,"  said  Rose,  with  a  slight 
tremble  in  her  voice,  and  looking  at  Elsie's  flushed,  con- 
scious face  with  eyes  full  of  unshed  tears.  "  Adelaide's 
is  to  be  within  the  next  two  months,  and — we  cannot 
give  up  Elsie  so  suddenly." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Adelaide;   "  and  I  should  have 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  g 

serious  objections  to  being  used  as  a  foil  to  Elsie's  youth 
and  beauty." 

The  Howards  and  Mr.  Travilla  stayed  to  tea,  and 
shortly  before  that  meal  the  party  was  increased  by 
the  arrival  of  Walter  Dinsmore  and  Mrs.  Dick  Per- 
civai. 

Enna  had  lost  flesh  and  color;  and  long  indulgence 
of  a  fretful,  peevish  temper  had  drawn  down  the  corners 
of  her  mouth,  lined  her  forehead,  and  left  its  ugly  pen- 
cilings  here  and  there  over  the  once  pretty  face,  so  that 
it  already  began  to  look  old  and  care-worn.  She  was 
very  gayly  dressed,  in  the  height  of  the  fashion,  and 
rather  overloaded  with  jewelry ;  but  powder  and  rouge 
could  not  altogether  conceal  the  ravages  of  discontent 
and  passion.  She  was  conscious  of  the  fact,  and  in- 
wardly dwelt  with  mortification  and  chagrin  upon  the 
contrast  presented  by  her  own  faded  face  to  that  of  Elsie, 
so  fair  and  blooming,  so  almost  childish  in  its  sweet  purity 
and  innocence  of  expression. 

"So  you  are  single  yet,"  Enna  said,  with  a  covert 
sneer;  "and  not  likely  to  marry  either,  so  far  as  I've 
been  able  to  learn.  They'll  soon  begin  to  call  you  an 
old  maid." 

"Will  they?"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  with  a  laugh  in 
which  all  present  joined,  Enna  herself  excepted; 
"well,  if  she  is  a  fair  specimen  of  that  much-abused 
class,  they  are  far  more  attractive  than  is  generally  sup- 
posed." 

"  You  needn't  laugh,"  said  Enna;  "  I  was  four  years 
younger  than  she  is  now,  when  I  married.  I  wasn't 
going  to  wait  till  they  began  to  call  me  an  old  maid." 


10  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"To  bear  that  reproach  is  not  the  worst  calamity 
that  can  befall  a  woman,"  replied  Mr.  Dinsmore  gravely ; 
then  changed  the  subject  by  a  kind  inquiry  in  regard  to 
Arthur. 

"Slowly  and  steadily  improving,"  answered  Walter. 
"  The  doctors  are  now  satisfied  that  he  is  not  permanently 
crippled,  though  he  still  uses  a  crutch." 


CHAPTER  SECOND. 

"  Mutual  love,  the  crown  of  all  our  bliss." 

— MILTON'S  PARADISE  LosT- 

AFTER  a  half  hour  of  waiting  for  her  son's  return, 
Mrs.  Travilla  sat  down  to  her  lonely  cup  of  tea.  There 
was  no  lack  of  delicacies  on  the  table,  and  in  all  Ed- 
ward's taste  had  been  consulted.  To  make  him  com- 
fortable  and  happy  was,  next  to  serving  her  God,  the 
great  aim  and  object  of  his  mother's  life;  and,  in  a  less 
degree,  of  that  of  every  servant  in  the  house.  They  had 
all  been  born  and  brought  up  at  Ion,  and  had  all  these 
years  known  him  as  the  kindest,  most  reasonable  and 
considerate  of  masters. 

"  Wish  Massa  Edard  come.  Dese  waffles  jes'  prime 
to-night,  an'  he  so  fond  ob  dem,"  remarked  a  pretty 
mulatto  girl,  handing  a  plate  of  them  to  her  mistress. 

"  Yes,  Prilla,  he  expected  to  be  at  home,  but  is  proba- 
bly taking  tea  at  the  Oaks  or  Roselands."  And  the  old 
lady  supped  her  tea  and  ate  her  waffles  with  a  serene, 
happy  face,  now  and  then  lighted  up  by  a  pleased  smile 
which  her  attendant  handmaiden  was  at  a  loss  to  inter- 
pret. 

Having  finished  her  meal,  Mrs.  Travilla  threw  a  shawl 
about  her  shoulders  and  stepped  out  upon  the  veranda ; 
then,  tempted  by  the  beauty  of  the  night,  walked  down 


2d  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

the  avenue  to  meet  her  son  or  see  if  there  were  any  signs 
of  his  approach. 

She  had  not  gone  half  the  distance  ere  the  sound  of 
florses'  hoofs  reached  her  ear — distant  at  first  but  coming 
rapidly  nearer,  till  a  lady  and  gentleman  drew  rein  at  the 
gate,  while  the  servant  who  had  been  riding  in  the  rear 
dismounted  and  threw  it  open. 

They  came  dashing  up,  but  paused  and  drew  rein 
again  at  sight  of  the  old  lady  standing  there  under  the 
trees. 

"Mother,"  cried  her  son,  springing  from  the  saddle, 
*  you  were  not  alarmed  ?  anxious?  surely." 

"No,  no,  Edward,  but  glad  to  see  you  •  and  Elsie! 
my  dear  child,  this  is  very  kind." 

"Not  at  all,  dear  Mrs.  Travilla;  it  is  so  lovely  an 
evening  for  a  ride;  or  walk  either,"  she  added,  giving 
her  hand  to  her  escort  and  springing  lightly  to  the 
ground. 

Mr.  Traviila  put  the  hand  into  that  of  his  mother. 
"  Take  her  to  your  heart,  mother ;  she  is  mine — ours  I  " 
he  said,  in  low  tones  tremulous  with  joy. 

The  old  lady  folded  the  slight  girlish  form  to  her 
"breast  for  a  moment,  with  a  silence  more  eloquent  than 
words. 

"Thank  God!  thank  God!"  she  murmured  at 
length.  "He  has  given  me  my  heart's  desire;"  and 
mingled  caresses  and  tears  fell  upon  Elsie's  face.  "  For 
many  years  I  have  loved  you  as  my  own  child,  and  now 
I  am  to  have  you.  How  bright  our  home  will  be,  Ed- 
ward. But  we  are  darkening  another.  Her  father ;  can 
he " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  15 

"  He  has  given  her  to  me,"  answered  the  son  quickly; 
4*  and  she  has — we  have  given  ourselves  to  each  other. 
Let  me  give  an  arm  to  each  of  you  and  we  will  go  into 
the  house." 

The  veranda  at  the  Oaks  was  deserted,  and  the  house 
very  quiet,  though  lights  still  shone  here  and  there,  as 
Mr.  Travilla  and  Elsie  rode  up  and  dismounted  on  their 
return  from  Ion. 

A  servant  rose  from  the  grass,  where  he  had  been  ly- 
ing at  his  ease ;  came  forward  and  led  away  his  young 
mistress's  pony,  while  the  lover  bade  her  a  tender  good- 
night, sprang  into  the  saddle  again,  and  presently  disap- 
peared, lost  to  view  amid  the  trees  and  the  windings  of 
the  road,  though  the  sound  of  horse's  hoofs  still  came 
faintly  to  Elsie's  ear  as  she  stood  intently  listening,  a 
sweet  smile  irradiating  every  feature. 

Absorbed  in  her  own  thoughts,  and  in  the  effort  to 
catch  those  fast-retreating  sounds,  she  did  not  hear  a  step 
approaching  from  behind ;  but  an  arm  encircled  her 
waist,  and  a  low-breathed  "  My  darling  "  woke  her  from 
her  reverie. 

She  looked  up,  her  eyes  beaming  with  affection ; 
"  Papa ;  I  am  rather  late,  am  I  not  ?  " 

"  Not  very.  Hark  !  the  clock  is  but  just  striking  ten. 
Come,  let  us  sit  down  here  for  a  little.  We  have  hardly 
had  a  chat  together  to-day."  He  sighed  slightly  as  he 
drew  her  closer  to  him. 

"  No,  papa  dear,  there  has  been  so  much  company," 
she  answered,  laying  her  head  on  his  shoulder. 


H  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  And  what  ?  "  as  she  paused.  "  Your  father  used  tw 
know  all  that  concerned  you  one  way  or  the  other.  Is  he 
to  be  shut  out  from  your  confidence  now  ?  Ah,  I  think 
he  must  have  been  for  some  time  past." 

"I  could  not  tell  you  that,  papa,"  she  murmured, 
blushing  visibly  in  the  moonlight.  "Indeed,  I  hardly 
knew  it  myself  till " 

"Till  when?" 

"  The  night  of  Sophie's  wedding." 

"  Ah!  "  he  said,  musingly;  "but  I  cannot  get  over 
my  surprise ;  he  is  your  senior  by  so  many  years,  and 
you  have  known  him  from  childhood  and  looked  upon 
him  as  a  sort  of  uncle.  I  wonder  at  your  choice." 

"But  you  don't  object,  papa? " 

"  No,  if  I  must  give  you  away — and  I've  always  known 
that  would  come  some  time — I  would  rather  it  should  be 
to  him  than  any  one  else,  for  I  can  never  doubt  that  he 
will  be  tender  and  true  to  my  precious  one,  when  she 
leaves  her  father's  home  for  his." 

"Papa,  papa,  don't  speak  of  it,"  she  cried,  winding 
her  arms  about  his  neck,  "  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  it  j 
that  our  home  will  no  longer  be  the  same,  that  I  can't 
come  to  you  every  night  and  be  folded  to  your  heart  as  I 
have  been  ever  since  I  was  a  little  girl." 

"  Well,  dearest,"  he  said,  after  a  moment,  in  which  he 
held  her  very  close  and  caressed  her  with  exceeding  ten- 
derness, "we  shall  not  be  far  apart  or  miss  passing  some 
time  together  many  days  of  the  year.  And  you  are  not 
in  haste  to  leave  me?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  no  !  why  should  I  be  ?  Please  keep  me  a 
little  while  yet." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  15 

"  I  intend  to :  it  will  take  at  least  a  year  to  get  used 
to  the  thought  of  doing  without  you,  and  so  long  Tra- 
villa  must  be  content  to  wait.  Nor  can  we  give  you  up 
wholly  even  then ;  your  suite  of  rooms  shall  still  be 
yours,  and  you  must  come  now  and  then  and  occupy 
them  for  days  or  weeks  at  a  time. 

"  Now,  daughter,  good-night.  Come  to  me  to-morrow 
morning  in  my  study,  soon  after  breakfast,  I  have  some- 
thing  more  of  importance  to  say  to  you." 

"  I  shall  obey,  and  without  fear,"  she  answered  gayly, 
"  though  I  remember  once  being  quite  frightened  at  a 
similar  order ;  but  that  was  when  I  was  a  silly  little  giA 
and  didn't  know  how  dearly  my  own  papa  loved  me." 

"And  when  he  was  strangely  stern  to  his  own  little 
child,"  he  answered,  with  another  tender  caress. 


CHAPTER  THIRD. 

[«  So  fair  that  had  you  beauty's  picture  took, 
It  must  like  her,  or  not  like  beauty  look." 

— ALLEYN'S  HENRY  VII. 

ELSIE  paused  at  the  half-open  door  of  her  father's 
private  room. 

Mr.  Dinsraore,  like  most  men,  was  fond  of  light  and 
air ;  through  the  wide  open  windows  the  morning  breeze 
side  softly  in,  laden  with  sweets  from  garden  and  lawn, 
and  the  rich  carpet  of  oak  and  green  was  flecked  with 
gold  where  the  sunbeams  came  shimmering  down  be- 
tween the  fluttering  leaves  of  a  beautiful  vine  that  had 
festooned  itself  about  the  one  looking  to  the  east. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  seated  at  his  desk  with  a  pile  of 
papers  before  him — legal  documents  in  appearance;  he 
would  open  one,  glance  over  its  contents,  lay  it  aside,  and 
Sake  up  another  only  to  treat  it  in  like  manner. 

Elsie  stood  but  a  moment  watching  him  with  loving, 
admiring  eyes,  then  gliding  noiselessly  across  the  floor, 
dropped  grace' Ally  at  his  feet  and  laying  her  folded 
.hands  upon  hib  knee  looked  up  into  his  face  with  an  arch, 
iweet  smile. 

"  Mon  pere,  I  have  come  for  my  lecture,  or  whatever 
you  have  laid  up  in  store  for  me,"  she  announced  with 
aaock  gravity  and  a  slight  tremble  of  pretended  fear  in 
}ier  voice. 

16 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  17 

Dropping  the  paper  he  held,  and  passing  one  hand 
caressingly  over  her  shining  hair,  "My  darling,  how 
very,  very  lovely  you  are  !  "  he  said,  the  words  bursting 
spontaneously  from  his  lips ;  "  there  is  no  flaw  hi  your 
beauty,  and  your  face  beams  with  happiness." 

"Papa  turned  flatterer  !  "  she  cried,  springing  up  and 
allowing  him  to  draw  her  to  his  knee. 

"I'm  waiting  for  the  lecture,"  she  said  presently,  "  you 
know  I  always  like  to  have  disagreeable  things  over  as 
soon  as  possible." 

"  Who  told  you  there  was  to  be  a  lecture  ?  " 

"Nobody,  sir." 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  that  you  feel  entitles  you 
to  one?" 

"I  don't  remember." 

"Nor  I  either.  So  let  us  to  business.  Here,  take 
this  chair  beside  me.  Do  you  know  how  much  you  are 
worth?" 

"Not  precisely,  sir,"  she  answered  demurely,  taking 
the  chair  and  folding  her  hands  pensively  in  her  lap ;  "  but 
very  little,  I  presume,  since  you  have  given  me  away  for 
nothing." 

"  By  no  means,"  he  said,  with  a  slight  smile  of  amuse- 
ment at  her  unwonted  mood.  "It  was  for  your  own 
happiness,  which  is  no  trifle  in  my  esteem.  But  you  be- 
long to  me  still." 

She  looked  at  him  with  glistening  eyes.  "  Thank  you, 
dearest  papa ;  yes,  I  do  belong  to  you  and  always  shall 
Please  excuse  my  wilful  misunderstanding  of  your  query, 
I  do  not  know  how  much  money  and  other  property  I 
own,  but  have  an  idea  tit  is  a  million  more  or  less." 


>8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"My  dear  child  ! — it  is  fully  three  times  that." 

"  Papa  !  is  it  indeed  ?  " 

"  Yes,  it  was  about  a  million  at  the  time  of  your 
Grandfather  Grayson's  death,  and  has  increased  very 
much  during  your  mamma's  minority  and  yours ;  which 
you  know  has  been  a  very  long  one.  You  own  several 
stores  and  a  dwelling  house  in  New  Orleans,  a  fine  plan- 
tation with  between  two  and  three  hundred  negroes,  and 
I  have  invested  largely  for  you  in  stocks  of  various  kinds 
both  in  your  own  country  and  in  England.  I  wish  you 
to  examine  all  the  papers,  certificates  of  stock,  bonds, 
deeds,  mortgages,  and  so  forth." 

"  Oh,  papa  !  "  she  cried,  lifting  her  hands  in  dismay, 
"  what  a  task.  Please  excuse  me.  You  know  all  about 
it,  and  is  not  that  sufficient  ?  " 

"  No,  the  property  is  yours ;  I  have  been  only  your 
steward,  and  must  now  render  up  an  account  to  you  for 
the  way  in  which  I  have  handled  your  property." 

"  You  render  an  account  to  me,  my  own  dear  father," 
she  said  low  and  tremulously,  while  her  face  flushed 
crimson ;  "I  cannot  bear  to  iiear  you  speak  so.  I  am 
fully  satisfied,  and  very,  very  thankful  for  all  your  kind 
care  of  it  and  of  me." 

He  regarded  her  with  a  smile  of  mingled  tenderness 
and  amusement,  while  softly  patting  and  stroking  the 
small  white  hand  laid  lovingly  upon  his. 

"  Could  I — could  any  father — do  less  for  his  own  be- 
loved child  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Not  you,  I  know,  papa.  But  may  I  ask  you  a  ques- 
tion?" 

"  As  many  as  you  like." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  19 

"  How  much  are  you  worth  ?  Ah !  you  needn't  look 
so  quizzical.  I  mean  how  much  do  you  own  in  money, 
land,  etc.  ?  " 

"  Something  less  than  a  million ;  I  cannot  tell  you 
the  exact  number  of  dollars  and  cents." 

"  Hardly  a  third  as  much  as  I !  It  doesn't  seem 
right.  Papa,  take  half  of  mine. " 

"That  wouldn't  balance  the  scales  either,"  he  said 
laughingly;  "and  besides,  Mr.  Travilla  has  now  some 
right  to  be  consulted." 

"  Papa,  I  could  never  love  him  again,  if  he  should 
object  to  my  giving  you  all  but  a  few  hundred  thou- 
sands." 

"  He  would  not.  He  says  he  will  never  touch  a  cent 
of  your  property ;  it  must  be  settled  entirely  upon  your- 
self, and  subject  to  your  control.  And  that  is  quite 
right;  for  he,  too,  is  wealthy." 

"Papa,  I  don't  think  I  deserve  so  much;  I  don't 
want  the  care  of  so  much.  I  do  wish  you  would  be  so 
good  as  to  take  half  for  your  own,  and  continue  to  man- 
age the  other  half  for  me  as  you  think  best." 

"  What  you  deserve  is  not  the  question  just  now. 
This  is  one  of  the  talents  which  God  has  given  you,  and 
I  think  you  ought,  at  least  for  the  present,  to  keep  the 
principal  and  decide  for  yourself  what  shall  be  done  with 
the  interest.  You  are  old  enough  now  to  do  so,  and  I 
hope  do  not  wish  to  shirk  the  responsibility,  since  God, 
in  His  good  providence,  has  laid  it  upon  you." 

He  spoke  very  gravely  and  Elsie's  face  reflected  the 
expression  of  his. 

''No,  I  do  not  wish  it  now,  papa,"  she  said,  in  a  low, 


20  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

sweet  voice.  "  I  will  undertake  it,  asking  Him  for  wis- 
dom and  grace  to  do  it  aright." 

They  were  busy  for  the  next  hour  or  two  over  the 
papers. 

"There  !  "  cried  Elsie,  at  length,  "  we  have  examined 
the  last  one,  and  I  think  I  understand  it  all  pretty  thor- 
oughly." 

"I  think  you  do.  And  now  another  thing;  ought 
you  not  to  go  and  see  for  yourself  your  property  in 
Louisiana  ?  " 

Elsie  assented,  on  condition  that  he  would  take  her. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  child,  can  you  suppose  I  would . 
ever  think  of  permitting  you  to  go  alone?  " 

"Thank  you,  papa.  And  if  poor  mammy  objects 
this  time,  she  may  take  her  choice  of  going  or  staying ; 
but  go  I  must,  and  see  how  my  poor  people  are  faring  at 
Viamede.  I  have  dim,  dreamy  recollections  of  it  as  a 
kind  of  earthly  paradise.  Papa,  do  you  know  why 
mammy  has  always  been  so  distressed  whenever  I  talked 
of  going  there?" 

"  Painful  associations,  no  doubt.  Poor  creature !  it 
was  there  her  husband — an  unruly  negro  belonging  to  a 
neighboring  planter — was  sold  away  from  her,  and  there 
she  lost  her  children,  one  by  accidental  drowning,  the 
others  by  some  epidemic  disease.  Your  own  mother, 
too,  died  there,  and  Chloe  I  think  never  loved  one  of 
her  own  children  better." 

"  No,  I'm  sure  not.  But  she  never  told  me  of  her 
husband  and  children,  and  I  thought  she  had  never  had 
any.  And  now,  papa,  that  we  are  done  with  business  for 
the  present,  I  have  a  request  to  mak«t." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  31 

"  Well,  daughter,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"  That  you  will  permit  me  to  renew  my  old  intimacy 
with  Lucy  Carrington  ;  or  at  least  to  call  on  her.  You 
remember  she  was  not  well  enough  to  be  at  the  wedding ; 
she  is  here  at  Ashlands  with  her  baby.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Carrington  called  here  yesterday  while  you  were  out, 
and  both  urged  me  not  to  be  ceremonious  with  Lucy,  as 
she  is  hardly  well  enough  to  make  calls  and  is  longing  to 
see  me." 

"And  what  answer  did  you  give  them?  "he  asked 
with  some  curiosity. 

"  That  I  should  do  so  if  possible ;  that  meant  if  I 
could  obtain  your  permission,  papa." 

"  You  have  it.  Lucy  is  in  some  sort  taken  into  the 
family  now,  and  you  are  safely  engaged ;  to  say  nothing 
of  your  mature  years,"  he  added  laughingly,  as  she 
seated  herself  on  his  knee  again  and  thanked  him  with  a 
hug  and  kiss. 

"  You  dear  good  papa  !  " 

"Some  girls  of  your  age,  heiresses  in  their  own  right^ 
would  merely  have  said,  'I'm  going,'  never  asking  per- 
mission." 

"  Ah,  but  I  like  to  be  ruled  by  you.  So  please  don't 
give  it  up.  Now  about  Enna?  " 

"If  I  had  any  authority  in  the  matter,  I  should  say, 
you  shall  not  give  her  a  cent.  She  doesn't  deserve  it 
from  you  or  any  one." 

"  Then  I  shall  wait  till  you  change  your  mind." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head.  "  Ah  !  my  little  girl, 
you  don't  realize  how  much  some  one  else's  opinions  will 
soon  weigh  with  you,"  he  answered,  putting  an  arm 


22  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

about  her  and  looking  with  fatherly  delight  into  the 
sweet  face. 

"  Ah,  papa  !  "  she  cried,  laying  her  cheek  to  his, 
"  please  don't  talk  so  ;  it  hurts  me." 

"  Then,  dearest,  I  shall  not  say  it  again,  though  in- 
deed I  was  not  reproaching  you  ;  it  is  right,  very  right, 
that  husband  and  wife  should  be  more  than  all  the  world 
beside  to  each  other." 

Elsie's  cheek  crimsoned.  "It  has  not  come  to  that 
yet,  father  dear,"  she  murmured,  half  averting  her  blush- 
ing face;  "  and — I  don't  know  which  of  you  I  love  best 
— or  how  I  could  ever  do  without  either  :  the  love  differs 
in  kind  rather  than  in  degree." 

He  drew  her  closer.  "  Thank  you,  my  darling ;  what 
more  could  I  ask  or  desire?  "  A  slight  tap  on  the  door 
and  Mrs.  Dinsmore  looked  in.  "Any  admittance?" 
she  asked  playfully. 

"  Always  to  my  wife,"  answered  her  husband,  releas- 
ing Elsie  and  rising  to  hand  Rose  a  chair. 

"  Thanks,  my  dear,  but  I  haven't  time  to  sit  down," 
she  said.  "  Here  is  a  note  of  invitation  for  us  all  to 
spend  the  day  at  Roselands.  Shall  we  go  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  if  it  suits  you,  Rose,"  replied  Mr.  Dins- 
more;  "and  Elsie;  "  he  added,  "will  you  go,  daugh- 
ter?" 

"  If  you  wish  it,  papa,"  she  answered  cheerfully ;  yet 
there  was  a  slight  reluctance  in  her  tone. 

He  gave  her  a  kind,  fond  look.  "  You  are  your  own 
mistress,  and  can  accept  or  decline  as  your  judgment  and 
wishes  dictate." 

"  But  you  would  rather  have  me  go,  papa  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  23 

"  I  would,  because  it  would  seem  more  kind  and  cour- 
teous. But  what  is  the  objection  in  your  mind  ?  Per- 
haps it  could  be  removed." 

"  I  wanted  so  much  to  see  Lucy  this  morning,"  Elsie 
answered  with  a  blush ;  "  but  to-morrow  will  do." 

"  But  both  might  be  accomplished  if  mamma  and 
Adelaide  like  to  have  Caesar  drive  them  and  the  little 
ones  over  to  Roselands.  Then  you  and  I  will  mount  our 
horses  and  away  to  Ashlands  for  a  call,  leaving  there  in 
good  time  to  join  the  dinner  party  at  Roselands.  How- 
will  that  do?" 

"  Oh,  bravely,  you  dear  darling  papa !  always  con- 
triving for  my  enjoyment." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  followed  his  wife  from  the  room. 
"  'Twill  be  an  early  return  of  Carrington's  call,"  he  said, 
"but  I  have  a  little  business  with  him." 

"  Yes,  I'm  very  glad  :  it  is  a  good  plan  j  but  don't 
hurry  Elsie  away.  She  and  Lucy  will  want  along  talk." 

"I  promise  to  be  careful  to  obey  orders,"  he  answered, 
sportively.  "  Is  that  all  ?  " 

"Yes ;  only  see  that  you  don't  stay  too  long,  and  keep 
the  dinner  waiting  at  Roselands." 

"Mamma,"  asked  Elsie,  bringing  up  the  rear  as  they 
entered  the  sitting-room,  "can't  you  go,  too — you  and 
Aunt  Adelaide  ?  Four  make  as  nice  a  party  as  two,  and 
the  babies  can  be  driven  over  quite  safely,  with  their 
mammies,  to  take  care  of  them." 

"  No,"  said  Rose,  "  I  never  accept  such  late  invita- 
tions; I  shall " 

"My  dear,"  said  her  husband,  "we  would  be  very 


24  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  No,  no ;  the  first  arrangement  is  decidedly  the  best ;  " 
putting  on  an  air  of  pretended  pique. 

"Babies!  do  you  call  me  a  baby?"  cried  young 
Horace,  who  had  sprung  to  his  feet  with  a  flash  of  indig- 
nation in  his  great  black  eyes,  "I'm  nine  years  old, 
Elsie.  Rosie  there's  the  only  baby  belonging  to  this 
house.  Do  you  think  papa  would  let  a  baby  have  a  pony 
like  Gip  ?  and  a  pistol  of  his  own,  too?  " 

Elsie  put  her  arms  round  his  neck,  and  gave  him  a 
kiss,  "  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons." 

"  Elsie,  my  daughter,  don't  allow  yourself  to  speak  so 
extravagantly,"  interrupted  her  father. 

"  I  will  try  not,  papa,"  she  answered.  "I  beg  your 
pardon,  Horace  dear,  and  assure  you  I  think  you  are 
quite  a  manly  young  man.  Now  I  must  prepare  for  my 
ride,  papa.  I  shall  be  ready  by  the  time  the  horses  can 
be  brought  to  the  door." 

"Papa,"  said  Horace,  as  the  door  closed  upon  his 
sister,  "  may  I  ride  Gip  to-day?  " 

"  If  you  promise  me  to  keep  close  beside  the  car- 
riage." 

"  Oh,  papa,  can't  I  ride  on  ahead  a  little,  now  and 
then,  or  fall  a  few  paces  behind  if  I  wish  ?  " 

"No ;  you  may  do  just  what  I  have  given  permission 
for,  and  nothing  else." 


CHAPTER  FOURTH. 

*  Grace  was  in  all  her  steps,  heaven  in  her  eye, 
In  ev'ry  gesture,  dignity  and  love." 

— MILTON'S  PARADISE  LOST. 

"Bui,  Elsie,  what  of  Mr.  Travilla?"  asked  her 
father,  as  he  handed  her  into  the  saddle. 

"  He  will  not  be  here  till  evening,  sir,"  she  answered, 
the  rose  on  her  cheek  deepening  slightly. 

"  Then  I  can  have  undisturbed  possession  for  to-day 
at  least,"  replied  Mr.  Dinsmore,  mounting.  "We 
couldn't  have  a  lovelier  day  for  a  ride." 

"Nor  better  company,"  added  Elsie,  archly,  keeping 
her  horse's  head  on  a  line  with  that  of  her  father's  larger 
steed,  as  they  followed  the  winding  carriage  road  at  a 
brisk  canter. 

"Why,  you  conceited  little  puss?"  returned  Mr. 
Dinsmore  laughing. 

Elsie  blushed  more  deeply  this  time.  "  Why,  papa, 
you  are  the  company  to-day,  are  you  not  ?  I  wished  to 
go,  and  you  kindly  arranged  to  accompany  me." 

"Ah!  and  that  is  how  you  look  at  it?  Well,  Ire- 
call  my  rebuke,  and  thank  you  for  your — what  shall  I 
say — pretty  compliment,  or  appreciation  of  my  society?  " 

"  Both,  if  you  like.  Oh,  how  nice  it  is  to  be  at  home 
again  in  our  own  dear  native  land." 

"  And  what  do  you  call  your  own  dear  native  land  ?  " 
25 


aS  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  What  a  strange  question,  papa  !  The  great,  grand 
old  Union  to  be  sure — North  and  South,  East  and  West 
— is  it  not  all  mine  ?  Have  you  not  taught  me  so  your- 
self?" 

"  Yes,"  he  said  musingly. 

They  rode  on  in  silence  for  some  minutes,  and  when 
he  spoke  again,  it  was  upon  a  subject  entirely  foreign  to 
the  last. 

"  The  place  looks  natural,"  he  remarked,  as  they 
turned  into  the  avenue  leading  to  the  fine  old  dwelling 
of  the  Carringtons. 

"How  kind,  how  very  kind,  to  come  so  soon!" 
was  Mrs.  Carrington's  cordial,  joyful  salutation.  "Mr. 
Dinsmore,  I  owe  you  a  thousand  thanks  for  not  only  per- 
mitting your  daughter  to  come,  but  bringing  her  your- 
self." 

"You  are  very  welcome,  my  dear  madam,"  he 
answered  courteously;  "and,  indeed,  I  should  like  to 
see  Mrs.  Rose  myself,  when  she  is  well  enough  and  feels 
that  it  will  be  agreeable  to  her." 

A  few  moments'  chat  in  the  drawing-room,  and  Mr. 
Dinsmore  drew  out  his  watch.  "How  long  a  talk 
do  you  war»t  with  your  friend  to-day,  Elsie?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  just  as  long  as  I  can  be  allowed,  papa!"  she 
cried,  with  much  of  the  old  childish  eagerness. 

"  Then  the  sooner  you  begin,  the  better,  I  think,  for 
we  ought  to  be  on  our  way  to  Roselands  in  an  hour,  or 
an  hour  and  a  quarter  at  the  farthest." 

Upon  that  the  gentlemen  retired  to  the  library  to  talk 
over  business  matters,  and  Mrs.  Carrington  led  the  way 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  27 

for  Elsie  to  Lucy's  room.  But  pausing  in  the  upper  hall, 
she  took  the  young  girl  in  her  arms,  folding  her  in  a 
close,  loving  embrace,  and  heaping  upon  her  tearful, 
tender,  silent  caresses. 

"My  poor  boy  !  my  poor  dear  Herbert,"  she  mur- 
mured at  length,  as  she  released  her  hold.  "  Darling,  I 
can  never  forget  that  you  might  have  been  my 
daughter.  But  there — I  will  leave  you.  Lucy  occupies 
her  old  rooms,  and  yonder  is  her  door ;  you  know  the 
way." 

"But  come  in  with  me,  dear  Mrs.  Carrington,"  urged 
Elsie,  the  tears  shining  in  her  eyes. 

"  No,  dear,  not  just  yet.  Lucy  would  prefer  to  see 
you  quite  alone  at  first,  I  know."  And  she  glided  away 
in  the  opposite  direction. 

A  soft,  cooing  sound  came  to  Elsie's  ear,  mingled  with 
fondling  words,  in  a  negro  voice,  as  she  stood  an  instant 
waiting  admittance.  Lucy,  a  good  deal  paler  and  thin- 
ner than  the  Lucy  of  old,  lay  back  in  an  easy  chair, 
languidly  turning  the  leaves  of  a  new  magazine. 

"Open  the  door,  mammy,"  she  said,  "I  thought  I 
heard  a  rap."  Then  at  sight  of  Elsie,  the  magazine  was 
hastily  tossed  aside,  and  with  a  cry  of  joy,  "  Oh,  you 
darling  !  I  thought  I'd  never  see  you  again,"  she  sprang 
forward,  caught  her  friend  in  a  close  embrace,  and  wept 
upon  her  neck. 

Elsie  soothed  her  with  caresses  and  words  of  endear- 
ment, and  presently  she  calmed  down,  made  her  friend 
take  a  seat,  and  sinking  back  into  her  own,  wiped  away 
the  tears  still  welling  up  in  her  eyes,  and  with  a  little 
hysterical  laugh,  said,  "  Please  don't  look  so  concerned, 


28  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

or  think  I'm  unhappy  with  my  dear  old  Phil,  or  going  to 
die,  or  any  such  nonsense  :  it's  just  my  nerves  ;  hateful, 
torturing  things !  I  wish  I'  d  never  found  out  I  had 
any." 

"  You  poor  dear,  I'm  so  sorry  for  your  lost  health," 
said  Elsie,  exchanging  her  chair  for  a  low  ottoman  "at 
Lucy's  feet,  and  taking  the  small  thin  hands  in  hers, 
stroking  and  patting  them  caressingly;  '"'I  know  nerves 
won't  be  reasoned  with,  and  that  tears  are  often  a  great 
relief." 

"And  I've  everything  to  make  me  happy,"  sobbed 
Lucy — "the  best  husband  in  the  world,  and  the  darling- 
est  of  babies,  to  say  nothing  of  mamma  and  papa,  and 
the  rest,  and  really  almost  everything  one  could  desire." 

"  Oh,  the  baby,  yes  !  "  cried  Elsie,  turning  towards  it 
with  eager  interest ;  ' '  the  sweet,  pretty  darling.  May  I 
take  him  a  moment,  Lucy?  " 

"Certainly,  if  he's  not  too  heavy — bring  him  here, 
mammy.  I  remember  your  father  would  not  allow  you 
to  lift  or  carry  little  Horace." 

"  Ah,  but  that  was  years  ago !  Ah,  how  lovely  he 
is  !  "  as  the  babe  accepted  her  mute  invitation  to -come 
to  her.  "  You  are  rich  indeed,  with  this  treasure  added 
'to  all  your  others.  And  you  and  your  Phil  don't  quarrel 
<yet?" 

"  No  indeed  !  not  the  first  cross  word  yet.  Mamma 
calls  us  her  turtle-doves :  says  we're  always  billing  and 
cooing.  Ah,  Elsie,  how  beautiful  you  are  !  I've  always 
thought  you  just  as  lovely  as  possible,  yet  there's  an 
added  something — I  can't  divine  what — that  increases 
even  your  peerless  attractions." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  29 

"O  Lucy,  Lucy,  still  a  flatterer!"  laughed  her 
friend. 

"  Yet  you've  come  back  to  us  single,"  Lucy  went  on, 
ignoring  the  interruption,  "though  we  all  know  you  had 
ever  so  many  good  offers.  Pray,  do  you  intend  to  re- 
main single  all  your  days?  " 

At  that,  Elsie's  face  dimpled  all  over  with  blushes  and 
smiles. 

Lucy  signed  to  the  nurse  to  take  the  babe,  and  as  the 
woman  walked  away  with  it  in  her  arms,  turned  eagerly 
to  her  friend. 

" Now  do  tell  me;  for  I'm  sure  you  are  not  going  to 
live  single..  -Shall  we  have  the  pleasure  of  hailing  you 
as  duchess  yet?"  r 

"No,  Lucy;  ,1  intend  to  marry;  am  actually  en- 
gaged, but  not  to  a  foreigner." 

..  ."  Dear  me  !  I  don't  believe  I  could  have  resisted  the 
title.  That  is,"  she. added,  hastily,  "if  I'd  been  heart- 
whole  like  you  :  but  after  seeing  my  Phil,  of  course  I 
wouldn't  .give  him  up  for  all  the  nobles  in  Europe,  Asia, 
and  Africa.  .  But  do  tell  me  who  is  the  fortunate  man  ?  " 

"  Suppose  you  try  your  skill  at  guessing." 
;  -"  Perfectly  useless,  never  had  any.     It  must  be  some- 
body 1  don't  know." 
,    "  My  good  little  woman,  you  know  him  well." 

.-"Either  of  Harry's  brothers-in-law?  Richard? 
Harold?" 

..  "  Noi  no,  no ;  you  are  wide  of  the  mark !  Could  you 
suppose  papa  would  ever  consent  to  such  a  mixture  of 
relationships?  Why,  it  would  make  papa  my  brother 
and  mamma's  brother  her  son-in-law." 


30  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"So  it  would.  Well,  I  give  it  up  and  beg  of  you  to 
put  a  speedy  end  to  my  suspense." 

Lucy  bent  her  head  to  listen,  and  Elsie  murmured  the 
name  low  and  softly,  the  rose  deepening  on  her  cheek  as 
she  spoke.  For  a  moment  Lucy  seemed  struck  dumb 
with  astonishment.  Then,  "Elsie  !  "  she  exclaimed,  "I 
can't  believe  it;  you  are  only  jesting." 

Elsie  shook  her  head  with  a  low,  musical,  happy 
laugh. 

"He's  splendid,  I  don't  deny  that;  but  then — only 
think — your  father's  most  intimate  friend  from  boyhood 
up;  and  almost  as  old." 

"  Some  people  seem  like  wine — to  improve  with  age. 
But  Mr.  Travilla  is  not  old  to  me  now.  He  has  been 
standing  still,  I  believe,  while  I  have  grown  up  to  him." 

"  And  you  really  are  in  love  with  him  ?  " 

"  He  has  all  my  heart,  all  the  love  I  could  give  to  any 
one,  and  I  respect,  honor,  and  trust  him  as  I  do  no  one 
else  but  my  father." 

"  And  that  reminds  me  ;  I  was  so  afraid  your  father 
would  not  let  you  come  to  see  me.  But — you  are  your 
own  mistress  now,  of  course." 

"Papa  tells  me  so  sometimes,"  laughed  Elsie,  "and 
yet  I  know  he  would  be  greatly  surprised  should  I  take 
the  liberty  of  doing  anything  he  would  not  approve.  I 
asked  his  permission  to  come,  and  he  not  only  gave  con- 
sent but  brought  me  himself." 

"That  was  good  in  him  ;  but  I  hope  he  won't  hurry 
you  away.  I  want  to  hear  about  your  European  con- 
quests, and  have  ever  so  much  to  say  besides." 

"  No,  he  has  kindly  promised  me  time  for  a  long  talk. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  31 

Besides,  I  can  ride  over  any  day  and  supplement  it  with 
another." 

Mr.  Dinsraore  was  as  good  as  his  word;  their  chat 
had  lasted  more  than  an  hour  when  his  summons  came, 
yet  Lucy  declared  it  had  not  been  half  long  enough,  and 
would  not  be  satisfied  to  let  Elsie  go  without  a  promise 
to  come  again  very  soon. 

"  Roselands,  too,  looks  very  natural,  and  very  home- 
like," remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  as  they  rode  up  its 
avenue. 

"  Yes,  papa ;  and  yet,  do  you  know,  it  seems  to  me  it 
has  grown  smaller  and  less  grand  since  I  lived  here  as  a 
child." 

"Ah  !  did  you  think  it  very  grand  then,  daughter?" 
he  asked,  turning  to  her  with  a  smile. 

"  I  believe  so,  papa ;  but  it  is  beautiful  yet,  even  after 
all  the  fine  places  we  have  seen  in  our  own  country  and 
Europe." 

Adelaide  met  them  at  the  door.  "Just  in  time,"  she 
said,  "  for  there  is  the  dressing-bell.  Your  own  old 
room,  Elsie  dear :  you  know  the  way  and  will  find  Aunt 
Chloe  in  waiting.  Horace,  you  will  make  yourself  at 
home  of  course." 

It  was  strictly  a  family  party,  sociable  and  informal. 
Elsie  had  not  met  Arthur  since  their  return,  and  at  the 
first  moment  scarcely  recognized  him  in  the  moustached 
and  bewhiskered  young  man  who  rose  and  came  forward, 
with  a  slight  limp,  to  meet  her  as  she  entered  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

"How  do  you  do?"  he  said,  holding  out  his  right 


32  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

hand,  while  steadying  himself  withra-  cane  held  in  the 
left.  "  I  hope  you're  glad  to  get  back  to  America?  " 

"Arthur,  is  it?  Yes;  thank  you  :  and  I'm  very  glad 
your  injuries  have  proved  less  serious  than  was  at  first 
feared,"  she  said,  kindly  meeting  his  advances  half-way. 

"  Oh  yes,"  he  replied,  with  attempted  nonchalance. 
"  I  shall  be  all  right  by  and  by." 

Then  retreating  to  the  seat  from  which  he  had  just 
risen,  the  corner  of  a  sofa  by  the  side  of  his  sister  Ade- 
laide, his  eye  following  Elsie  as  she  crossed  the  room  to 
pay  her  respects  to  her  grandfather  and  others.  "What 
on  earth  you  call  that  girl  little  for,  I  can't  imagine,"  he 
remarked  in  an  undertone  ;  "  why  she's  quite  above  the 
average  height ;  graceful  as  a  young  fawn,  too  ;  splendid 
figure,  and  actually  the  most  beautiful  face  Lever  saw. 
I  don't  wonder  she  turned  the  heads  of  lords  and  dukes 
on  the  other  side  of  the  water.  But  what  do  you  call  her 
little  for?" 

"  I  hardly  know,  Art;  with  me  it's  a  term  of  endear- 
ment more  than  anything  else,  I  believe,"  replied  his 
sister  ;  "  but  there  is  something  in  the  expression  of  her 
face — something  that  has  always  been  there,  a  sweet  sim- 
plicity and  innocence — that  moves  one  to  a  sort  of  pro- 
tecting love  as  to  a  little  one  who  has  not  yet  attained 
sufficient  worldly  wisdom  to  take  care  of  herself." 

Old  Mr.  Dinsmore  greeted  his  lovely  granddaughter 
almost  affectionately,  holding  her  hand  in  his  for  a  mo- 
ment, and  looking  from  her  to  her  father.  "Really, 
she's  a  girl  to  be  proud  of,  Horace,"  he  said  with  a  pa- 
ternal smile.  "  But  I've  no  need  to  tell  you  that." 

"No,  she  is  not  bad  looking,"  observed  his  wife  with 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  33 

a  slight  sneer  ;  "few  girls  would  be  in  such  elegant  attire ; 
but  it  surprises  me  to  see  that,  with  all  her  advantages 
and  opportunities  for  improvement,  she  has  not  yet  lost 
that  baby  expression  she  always  had.  She'll  never  be  half, 
the  woman  Enna  is." 

The  days  were  past  in  which  the  lady  mother  had 
gloried  in  the  fact  that  anywhere  Enna  would  have  been 
taken  for  the  elder  of  the  two;  and  now  the  contrast  be- 
tween her  faded,  fretful  face  and  Elsie's  fresh  bloom  was 
a  sore  trial  to  madam's  love,  and  pride  in  her  household 
pet. 

But  no  one  deemed  it  necessary  to  reply  to  the  un- 
pleasant remark.  Elsie  only  smiled  up  into  her  father's 
face  as  he  came  forward  and  stood  at  her  side,  and  meet- 
ing his  look  of  loving  content  and  pride  in  her,  just  as 
she  was,  and  calling  to  mind  how  fully  satisfied  with  her 
was:  another,  whose  loving  approbation  was  no  less  pre- 
cious, turned  away  with  a  half-breathed  sigh  of  heartfelt 
happiness,  finished  her  greetings,  and,  the  dinner-bell 
ringing  at  that  moment,  accepted  Walter's  offered  arm  to 
the  dining-room. 

Arthur  was  more  and  more  charmed  with  his  niece  aa 
he  noted  the  modest  ease  and  grace  of  her  manners,  both 
at  the  table,  and  afterwards  in  the  drawing-room ;  listened 
to  her  music — greatly  improved  under  the  instructions  of 
some  of  the  first  masters  of  Europe — and  her  conversation 
with  his  father  and  others,  in  which  she  almost  uncon- 
sciously revealed  rich  stores  of  varied  information  gath- 
ered from  books,  the  discourse  of  the  wise  and  learned 
met  in  her  travels,  and  her  own  keen  yet  kindly  observa- 
tions of  men  and  things.  These,  with  the  elegance  c^ 


34  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

her  diction,  and  the  ready  play  of  wit  and  fancy,  made 
her  a  fascinating  talker. 

Contrary  to  Elsie's  expectations,  it  was  decided  by  the 
elders  of  the  party  that  all  should  remain  to  tea. 

As  the  others  returned  to  the  drawing-room  on  leaving 
the  table,  she  stole  out  upon  the  moonlighted  veranda. 
Gazing  wistfully  down  the  avenue,  was  she  thinking  of 
one  probably  even  then  on  his  way  to  the  Oaks — think- 
ing of  him  and  his  disappointment  at  not  finding  her 
there  ? 

"It's  a  nice  night,  this,"  remarked  Arthur's  voice  at 
her  side.  "I  say,  Elsie,  suppose  we  bury  the  hatchet, 
you  and  I." 

"I  never  had  any  enmity  towards  you,  Arthur,"  she 
answered,  still  gazing  straight  before  her. 

"Well,  it's  odd  if  you  hadn't;  I  gave  you  cause 
enough,  as  you  did  me  by  your  niggardly  refusal  to 
lend  me  a  small  sum,  on  occasions  when  I  was  hard  up. 
But  I'm  willing  to  let  by-gones  be  by-gones,  if  you 
are." 

"Certainly;  I  should  be  glad  to  forget  all  that  has 
been  unpleasant  in  the  past." 

"  You  have  improved  wonderfully  since  I  saw  you 
last :  you  were  a  pretty  girl  then,  but  now  you  are  with- 
out exception  the  most  superbly  beautiful,  graceful,  ac- 
complished, and  intelligent  woman  I  ever  saw." 

"I  do  not  like  flattery,  Arthur,"  she  answered,  turning 
coldly  away. 

"  Pooh  !  the  truth's  never  flattery ;  I  declare  if  we  were 
not  so  nearly  related,  I'd  marry  you  myself." 

"You  forget,"  she  said,  half  scornfully,  "that  it  takes 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  35 

two  to  make  a  bargain ;  three  in  this  case ;  and  two  of 
us  would  never  consent." 

"  Nonsense  !  I'd  soon  manage  it  by  clever  courting. 
A  man  can  always  get  the  woman  he  wants  if  he's  only 
sufficiently  determined." 

"  In  that  you  are  mistaken.  But  why  broach  so  dis- 
agreeable a  subject,  since  we  are  so  nearly  related  that 
the  very  thought  seems  almost  a  sin  and  a  crime?  " 

"  And  so  you're  going  to  throw  yourself  away  on  old 
Travilla?" 

Elsie  faced  him  with  flashing  eyes.  "  No ;  it  will  be 
no  throwing  away  of  myself,  nor  will  I  allow  him  to  be 
spoken  of  in  such  disrespectful  terms,  in  my  presence." 

"Humph!"  laughed  Arthur.  "Well,  I've  found 
out  how  to  make  you  angry,  at  all  events.  And  I'm  free 
to  confess  I  don't  like  Travilla,  or  forgive  him  all  old 
scores." 

Elsie  scarcely  seemed  to  hear.  A  horse  was  coming 
at  a  quiet  canter  up  the  avenue.  Both  the  steed  and  his 
rider  wore  a  familiar  aspect,  and  the  young  girl's  heart 
gave  a  joyous  bound  as  the  latter  dismounted,  throwing 
the  reins  to  a  servant,  and  came  up  the  steps  into  the 
veranda. 

She  glided  towards  him ;  there  was  an  earnest,  tender 
clasping  of  hands,  a  word  or  two  of  cordial  greeting, 
and  they  passed  into  the  house  and  entered  the  drawing- 
room. 

"Humph!  not  much  sentiment  there;  act  towards 
each  other  pretty  much  as  they  always  have,"  said  Ar- 
thur to  himself,  taking  a  cigar  from  his  pocket  and  light- 
ing it  with  a  match.  "I  wonder  now  what's  the  attrac- 


36  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

tion  to  her  for  an  old  codger  like  that,"  he  added  watch- 
ing the  smoke  as  it  curled  lazily  up  from  the  end  of  his 
Havana. 

There  was  indeed  nothing  sentimental  in  the  conduct 
of  Mr.  Travilla  or  Elsie :  deep,  true,  heartfelt  happiness 
there  was  on  both  sides,  but  calm  and  quiet,  indulging  in 
little  demonstration,  except  when  they  were  quite  alone 
with  each  other.  There  was  no  secret  made  of  the  en- 
gagement, and  it  was  soon  known  to  all  their  friends  and 
acquaintance.  Mr.  Travilla  had  always  been  in  the  habit 
of  visiting  the  Oaks  daily,  and  finding  himself  'very 
much  at  home  there  j  and  he  continued  to  come  and  go 
as  formerly,  all  welcoming  him  with  great  cordiality, 
making  him,  if  possible,  more  one  of  themselves  than 
ever,  while  there  was  little  change  in  Elsie's  manner,  ex- 
cept that  all  her  late  reserve  had  fled,  and  given  place  to 
the  old  ease  and  freedom,  the  sweet,  affectionate  confi- 
dences of  earlier  days. 

•  Mn-Dinsmore's  determination  to  delay  the  marriage 
for  a  year  was  decidedly  a  keen  disappointment  to  the 
middle-aged  lover,  who  had  already  endured  so  long  and 
patient  a  waiting  for  his  prize  ;  yet  so  thankful  and  joy- 
ous was  he  that  he  had  at  last  won  her  for  his  own,  that, 
finding  remonstrance  and  entreaties  alike  unavailing,  he 
presently  accepted  the  conditions  with  a  very  good  grace, 
comforting  himself  with  the  certainty  of  the  permanence 
of  her  love.  Elsie  had  no  coquettish  arts,  was  simple- 
hearted,  straightforward,  and  true,  as  in  her  childhood, 
and  their  confidence  in  each  other  was  unbounded. 


CHAPTER  FIFTH. 

"  Joy  never  feasts  so  high 
As  when  the  first  course  is  of  misery." 

—SUCKLING. 

ADELAIDE'S  marriage  was  fixed  for  Christmas  eve,  and 
Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Elsie  decided  to  take  their  trip  to 
Louisiana  at  once,  that  they  might  be  able  to  return  in 
season  for  the  wedding,  at  which  Elsie  was  to  be  first 
bridesmaid. 

It  was  Elsie  herself  who  broke  the  news  of  her  in- 
tended journey  to  her  faithful  old  nurse,  explaining  why 
she  felt  it  her  duty  to  go,  and  kindly  leaving  to.  Chloe's 
own  decision  whether  she  would  accompany  her  or  not. 

The  dusky  face  grew  very  sad  for  a  moment,  tears 
springing  to  the  dark  eyes ;  but  the  voice  was  almost 
cheerful  as  she  answered,  "Yes,  you's  right,  honey 
darlin'  you's  all  right  to  go  and  see  'bout  dem  poor  souls 
and  let  'em  see  dere  beau'ful  young  missus ;  and  your  ole 
mammy  '11  go  'long  too,  for  she  neber  could  stay  and  let 
her  chile  run  all  dem  risks  on  de  boats  an'  cars  an'  she 
no  dar  to  take  care  ob  her." 

"  That's  right,  my  own  dear  old  mammy.  I  shall  be 
glad  to  have  you  along,  and  hope  you  will  find  it  pleas- 
anter  than  you  expect ;  but  we  must  trust  the  Lord  to 
take  care  of  us  all ;  for  He  only  can  prevent  the  acci- 
dents you  fear." 


38  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Yes,  yes,  honey,  dat's  de  truff;  an*  we'll  trust  Him 
an'  not  be  'fraid,  'cause  don't  He  say,  '  Not  a  hair  ob 
your  head  shall  perish.'  " 

" '  What  time  I  am  afraid  I  will  trust  in  Thee,'  " 
murmured  Elsie,  softly.  "Ah,  the  joy,  the  peace,  of 
knowing  that  His  presence  and  His  love  will  ever  go  with 
us  everywhere ;  and  that  He  has  all  power  in  heaven  and 
in  earth." 

A  week  later,  Mr.  Dinsmore  was  showing  his  daughter 
the  beauties  of  New  Orleans,  where  they  had  arrived 
without  accident  or  loss.  They  remained  in  the  city 
long  enough  to  attend  thoroughly  to  the  business  which 
had  called  them  there,  and  to  see  everything  worth  look- 
ing at. 

Elsie's  plantation  was  in  the  Teche  country,  the  very 
loveliest  part  of  grand  old  Louisiana.  In  order  that  suit- 
able preparations  might  be  made  for  their  reception,  word 
had  been  sent  that  they  might  be  expected  on  a  certain 
day. 

"  We  have  allowed  more  time  than  necessary  for  this 
place,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  to  his  daughter  one  evening 
on  returning  to  their  hotel,  after  seeing  the  last  of  the 
lions  of  the  Crescent  City ;  "we  have  two  days  to  spare ; 
what  shall  be  done  in  them?  " 

"  Let  us  go  on  to  Viamede  at  once  then,  papa,"  re- 
plied Elsie,  promptly.  "  I  have  been  regretting  that  we 
sent  notice  of  our  coming.  I  doubt  if  it  would  not  have 
been  wiser  to  take  them  by  surprise." 

"  There  would  not  be  the  same  preparations  for  your 
comfort,"  replied  her  father,  taking  a  seat  by  her  on  the 
sofa,  for  they  were  in  their  own  private  parlor;  "you 


£LSfE'S  WOMANHOOD.  39 

may  find  unaired  bed-linen  and  an  empty  larder,  which, 
beside  inconveniencing  yourself,  would  sorely  mortify  and 
trouble  Aunt  Phillis  and  her  right-hand  woman,  Sarah, 
the  cook." 

"  I  should  be  sorry  you  should  have  an  inhospitable  re- 
ception, papa,  but  fires  are  soon  kindled  and  linen  aired, 
and  is  not  the  pantry  kept  supplied  with  canned  and  pre- 
served fruits  ?  and  are  there  not  fresh  fruits,  vegetables, 
chickens,  and  eggs  at  hand  for  immediate  use?  " 

"  Yes,  certainly;  and  we  are  not  likely  to  suffer.  We 
will,  then,  leave  here  to-morrow,  if  you  wish,  taking  the 
steamer  for  Berwick  Bay.  But  why  prefer  to  come  upon 
them  unexpectedly  ?  " 

Elsie  smiled,  and  blushed  slightly.  "  You  know  I 
never  have  any  concealments  from  you,  papa,  and  I  will 
be  frank  about  this,"  she  said.  "  I  don't  think  I  am  apt 
to  be  suspicious,  and  yet  the  thought  has  come  to  me 
several  times  within  the  last  few  days,  that  the  overseer 
has  had  every  opportunity  to  abuse  my  poor  people  if  he 
happens  to  be  of  a  cruel  disposition.  And  if  he  is  ill- 
treating  them  I  should  like  to  catch  him  at  it,"  she 
added,  her  eyes  kindling,  and  the  color  deepening  on  her 
cheek. 

"  And  what  would  you  do  in  that  case  ?  "  her  father 
asked,  with  a  slight  smile,  drawing  her  close  to  him  and 
touching  his  lips  to  the  blooming  cheek. 

"Dismiss  him,  I  suppose,  papa;  I  don't  know  what 
else  I  could  do  to  punish  him  or  prevent  further  cruelties. 
I  should  not  like  to  shoot  him  down,"  she  added,  laugh- 
ingly; "and  I  doubt  if  I  should  have  strength  to  flog 
him." 


40  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Doubt?"  laughed  her  father,  "certainly  you  could 
not,  single-handed  ; ,  unless  his  politeness  should  lead  him 
to  refrain  from  any  effort  to  defend  himself;  and  I,  it 
would  seem,  am  not  expected  to  have  anything  to  do  with 
the  matter." 

A  deeper  blush  .than  before  now  suffused  Elsie's  fair 
cheek.  "Forgive  me,  dear  papa,"  she  said,  laying  her 
head  on  his  shoulder,  and  fondly  stroking  his  face  with 
her  pretty  white.hand,  "  Please  consider  yourself  master 
there  as  truly  as  at  the  Oaks,  and  as  you  have  been-  for 
years ;  and  understand  that  your  daughter  means  to  take 
no  important  step  without  your  entire  approval." 

"No,  I  do  not  go  there  as  master,  but  as  your  guest,"- 
he  answered,  half  playfully,  half  tenderly. 

",  My  guest  ?,  That  seems  pleasant  indeed,  papa ;  and 
yet  I  want  ,you  to  be  master  too.  But  you  will  at  least 
advise  me?"  ••' 

"  To  the  best  of  my  ability,  my  little  girl." 
„>?" Thank,  you,, ray  dear  kind  father.     I  have  another 
reason   for   wishing   to   start  to-morrow.     I'm   growing 
anxious   ;and    impatient   to   see  my   birthplace   again : 
and,,'.'  she  added  low  and  tenderly,  "  mamma's  grave.'' 

"Yes,  we  will  visit  it  together  for  the  first  time'; 
though  .1  have.. stood  there  alone  again  and  again,  and 
her  baby  daughter  used  to  be  taken  there  frequently  to 
scatter  flowers  over,  .it  and  play  beside  it.  Do  you  re- 
member that?  " 

.  "Yes,  sir,  as  an -.almost  forgotten  dream,  as  I  do  the 
house  and  grounds  and  some  of  the  old  servants  who 
petted  and  humored  me." 

While  father  and  daughter  conversed  thus  together  ia 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  41 

the  parlor,  a  dusky  figure  sat  at  a  window  in  the  adjoin- 
ing bedroom,  gazing  out  upon  the  moonlighted  streets 
and  watching  the  passers-by.  But  her  thoughts,  too, 
were  straying  to  Viamede ;  fast-coming  memories  of 
earlier  days,  some  all  bright  and'  joyous,  others  filled 
with  the  gloom  and  thick  darkness  of  a  terrible  anguish, 
made  her  by  turns  long  for  and  dread  the  arrival  at  her 
journey's  end. 

A  light  touch  on  her  shoulder,  and  she  turned  to  find 
her  young  mistress  at  her  side. 

"My  poor  old  mammy,  I  bring  you  news  you  will  be 
sorry  to  hear,"  said  Elsie,  seating  herself  upon  the  ample 
lap,  and  laying  her  arm  across  the  broad  shoulders. 

"  What  dat,  honey  ?  " 

"We  start  to-morrow  for  Viamede;  papa  has  sent 
John  to  engage  our  passage  on  the  steamer." 

"Dat  all,  darlin'  ?  "  queried  Chloe,  with  a  sigh  of  re- 
lief, "if  we's  got  to  go,  might's  well  go  quick  an'  hab  it 
ober." 

"Well,  I'm  glad  you  take  so  sensible  a  view  of  it," 
remarked  Elsie,  relieved  in  her  turn;  "and  I  hope  you 
will  find  much  less  pain  and  more  pleasure  than  you  ex- 
pect in  going  back  to  the  old  home." 

The  next  morning,  as  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  his  daughter 
sat  upon  the  deck  of  the  steamer,  enjoying  the  sunlight? 
the  breeze,  and  the  dancing  of  the  water,  having 'cleared 
their  port  and  gotten  fairly  out  into  the  gulf,  a  startling 
incident  occurred. 

Chloe  stood  at  a  respectful  distance,  leaning  over  the 
side  of  tht  vessel,  watching  the  play  of  the  wheel  and 
the  rainbow  in  the  spray  that  fell  in  showers  at  its  every 


42  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

revolution.  An  old  negro  busied  about  the  deck ;  drew 
near  and  addressed  her  : 

"  Well,  auntie,  you  watchin'  dat  ole  wheel  dar?  Fust 
time  you  trable  on  dis  boat,  eh  ?  " 

Chloe  started  at  the  sound  of  the  voice,  turned  sud- 
denly round  and  faced  the  speaker,  her  features  working 
with  emotion :  one  moment  of  earnest  scrutiny  on  the 
part  of  both,  and  with  a  wild  cry,  "Aunt  Chloe!  my 
ole  woman,"  "  Uncle  Joe  !  it  can't  be  you,"  they  rushed 
into  each  other's  arms,  and  hung  about  each  other's 
neck,  weeping  and  sobbing  like  two  children. 

"Papa!  what  is  it?"  exclaimed  Elsie,  greatly  sur- 
prised at  the  little  scene. 

"  Her  husband,  no  doubt :  he's  too  old  to  be  a  son." 

"  Oh,  how  glad,  how  glad  I  am !  "  and  Elsie  started 
to  her  feet,  her  eyes  full  of  tears,  and  her  sweet  face 
sparkling  all  over  with  sympathetic  joy.  "  Papa,  I  shall 
buy  him !  they  must  never  be  parted  again  till  death 
comes  between." 

A  little  crowd  had  already  gathered  about  the  excited 
couple,  every  one  on  deck  hurrying  to  the  spot,  eager 
to  learn  the  cause  of  the  tumult  of  joy  and  grief 
into  which  the  two  seemed  to  have  been  so  suddenly 
thrown. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  rose,  and  giving  his  arm  to  Elsie,  led 
her  towards  the  throng,  saying  in  answer  to  her  last  re- 
mark, "Better  act  through  me,  then,  daughter,  or  you 
will  probably  be  asked  two  or  three  prices." 

"O  papa,  yes;  please  attend  co  it  for  me — only — only 
I  must  have  him,  for  dear  old  mammy's  sake,  at  what- 
ever cost." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  43 

The  crowd  opened  to  the  lady  and  gentleman  as  they 
drew  near. 

"My  poor  old  mammy,  what  is  it?  whom  have  you 
found?"  asked  Elsie. 

But  Chloe  was  speechless  with  a  joy  so  deep  that  it  wore 
the  aspect  of  an  almost  heart-breaking  sorrow.  She  could 
only  cling  with  choking  sobs  to  her  husband's  arm. 
"What's  all  this  fuss,  Uncle  Joe?"  queried  the  captain. 
"  Let  go  the  old  darkie  ;  what's  she  to  you  ?  " 

"  My  wife,  sah,  dat  I  ain't  seed  for  twenty  years,  sah," 
replied  the  old  man,  trying  to  steady  his  trembling  tones, 
obeying  the  order,  but  making  no  effort  to  shake  off 
Chloe' s  clinging  hold. 

"  Leave  him  for  a  little  now,  mammy  dear ;  you  shall 
never  be  parted  again,"  whispered  Elsie  in  her  nurse's 
ear.  "  Come  with  me,  and  let  papa  talk  to  the  captain." 

Chloe  obeyed,  silently  following  her  young  mistress  to 
the  other  side  of  the  deck,  but  ever  and  anon  turning 
her  head  to  look  back  with  wet  eyes  at  the  old  wrinkled 
black  face  and  white  beard  that  to  her  were  so  dear,  so 
charming.  His  eyes  were  following  her  with  a  look  of 
longing,  yearning  affection,  and  involuntarily  he  stretched 
out  his  arms  towards  her. 

"Off  to  your  work,  sir,"  ordered  the  captain,  "and 
let's  have  no  more  of  this  nonsense." 

Old  Joe  moved  away  with  a  patient  sigh. 

"The  woman  is  your  property,  I  presume,  sir?"  the 
captain  remarked  in  a  respectful  tone,  addressing  Mr. 
Dinsmore. 

"  Yes,  my  daughter's,  which  amounts  to  the  same 
,"  that  gentleman  replied  in  a  tone  of  indifference; 


44  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

then  changing  the  subject,  made  some  inquiries  about 
the  speed  and  safety  of  the  boat,  the  length  of  her  trips, 
etc. 

The  captain  answered  pleasantly,  showing  pride  in  his 
vessel.  Then  they  spoke  of  other  things :  the  country, 
the  crops,  the  weather. 

"Sit  down,  mammy/'  said  Elsie  pityingly,  as  they 
reached  tb^  settee  where  she  and  her  father  had  been 
sitting ;  "  you  are  trembling  so  you  can  scarcely 
stand/' 

"  O  darlin',  dat's  true  'nuff,  I'se  mos*  ready  to  drop," 
she  said  tremulously,  coming  down  heavily  upon  a  trunk 
that  stood  close  at  hand.  "  Oh,  de  good  Lord  hab 
bring  me  face  to  face  wid  my  ole  Uncle  Joe ;  oh,  I 
neber  'spected  to  see  him  no  more  in  dis  wicked  world. 
But  dey'll  take  'im  off  again  an'  dis  ole  heart'll  break," 
she  added,  with  a  bursting  sob. 

"No,  no,  mammy,  you  shall  have  him,  if  money  can 
accomplish  it." 

"You  buy  Mm,  darlin'?  Oh,  your  ole  mammy  can 
neber  t'ank  you  'nuff !  "  and  a  low,  happy  laugh  mingled 
Nwith  the  choking  sobs.  "But  dey'll  ask  heaps  ob 
"money." 

"  You  shall  have  him,  let  the  price  be  what  it  will," 
'iwas  Elsie's  assurance.  "  See  papa  is  bargaining  with 
the  captain  now,  for  they  look  at  Uncle  Joe  as  they 
talk." 

Chloe  regarded  them  with  eager  interest;  yes,  they 
were  looking  at  Uncle  Joe,  and  evidently  speaking  of 
him. 

"By  the  way,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  remarked  carelessly, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  45 

"does  Uncle  Joe  belong  to  you?  or  is  he  merely  a  hired 
hand  ?  " 

"He's  my  property,  sir." 

"Would  you  like  to  sell?" 

"  I  am  not  anxious ;  he's  a  good  hand,  faithful  and 
nonest:  quite  a  religious  character  in  fact,"  he  con- 
cluded with  a  sneer;  "overshoots  the  mark  in  prayin 
and  psalm-singing.  But  do  you  want  to  buy  ?  " 

"Well  yes;  my  daughter  is  fond  of  her  old  mammy, 
and  for  her  sake  would  be  willing  to  give  a  reasonable 
sum.  What  do  you  ask  ?  " 

"  Make  me  an  offer." 

"Five  hundred  dollars." 

"Five  hundred?  ridiculous  !  he's  worth  twice  that.'* 

"  I  think  not,  he  is  old — not  far  from  seventy  and  will 
soon  be  past  work  and  only  a  burden  and  expense.  My 
offer  is  a  good  one. ' ' 

"Make  it  seven  hundred  and  I'll  take  it." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  considered  a  moment.  "That  is  too 
high,"  he  said  at  length,  "but  for  the  sake  of  making 
two  poor  creatures  happy,  I  will  give  it." 

"Cash  down?" 

"  Yes,  a  check  on  a  New  Orleans  bank." 

"Please  walk  down  into  the  cabin  then,  sir,  and  we'll 
conclude  the  business  at  once." 

In  a  few  moments  Mr.  Dinsmore  returned  to  hi» 
daughter's  side,  and  placing  the  receipted  bill  of  sale  in 
her  hands,  asked,  "  Have  I  given  too  much? " 

"Oh,  no,  papa,  no  indeed  !  I  should  have  given  a 
thousand  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  if  asked  it — 
five,  ten  thousand,  if  need  be,  rather  than  have  them 


46  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

parted  again,"  she  exclaimed,  the  bright  tears  shining  in 
her  eyes.  "  Mammy,  my  poor  old  mammy,  Uncle  Joe 
belongs  to  me  now,  and  you  can  have  him  always  with 
you  as  long  as  the  Lord  spares  your  lives." 

"  Now  bress  de  Lord  !  "  cried  the  old  woman  de- 
voutly, raising  her  streaming  eyes  and  clasped  hands  to 
heaven;  "  de  good  Lord  dat  hears  de  prayers  ob  His 
chilen's  cryin'  to  Him  when  dere  hearts  is  ober- 
whelmed  !  " 

"Go  break  the  news  to  Uncle  Joe,  mammy,"  said 
Elsie;  "see,  yonder  he  stands  looking  so  eager  and 
wistful." 

Chloe  hurried  to  hjs  side,  spoke  a  few  rapid  words ; 
there  was  another  long,  clinging,  tearful  embrace,  and 
they  hastened  to  their  master  and  mistress  to  pour  out 
their  thanks  and  blessings  upon  them,  mingled  with 
praises  and  fervent  thanksgivings  to  the  Giver  of  all 
good. 

The  joy  and  gratitude  of  the  poor  old  couple  were  very 
sweet,  very  delightful  to  Elsie,  and  scarcely  less  so  to  her 
father. 

"  Mammy  dear,  I  never  saw  you  wear  so  happy  a 
face,"  Elsie  said,  as  Chloe  returned  to  her  after  an  hour 
or  two  spent  in  close  conversation  with  her  newly  re- 
covered spouse. 

"  Ah,  honey,  your  ole  mammy  links  she  neber  so  glad 
in  all  her  life !  "  cried  the  poor  old  creature,  clasping  her 
hands  together  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy  and  gratitude  while 
the  big  tears  shone  in  her  eyes.  "  I'se  got  ole  Uncle 
Joe  back  agin,  an'  he  not  de  same,  he  bettah  man,  Chris- 
tian man  He  say,  '  Aunt  Chloe  we  uns  trabble  de  same 


£LSfE'S  WOMANHOOD.  47 

road  now,  honey:  young  Joe  proud,  angry,  swearin', 
drinkin'  boy,  your  Oie  Joe  he  lub  de  Lord  an'  try  to 
sarve  Him  wid  all  he  might.  And  de  Lord  good  Massa. 
De  debbil  berry  bad  one.'  " 

"  Dear  mammy,  I  am  very  glad  for  you ;  I  think  noth- 
ing else  could  have  made  you  so  happy." 

Chloe,  weeping  again  for  joy,  went  on  to  tell  her 
young  mistress  that  Uncle  Joe  had  discovered  a  grand- 
child in  New  Orleans,  Dinah  by  name,  waiting-maid  in  a 
wealthy  family. 

"But  how  is  that,  mammy?  Papa  and  I  thought  all 
your  children  died  young." 

"  No,  darlin',  when  Massa  Grayson  buy  me  in  New 
Orleans,  an'  de  odder  gentleman  buy  Uncle  Joe,  we  hab 
little  girl  four  years  ole,  an'  de  ole  missus  keep  her," 
sobbed  Chloe,  living  over  again  the  agony  of  the  parting, 
"an'  Dinah  her  chile." 

"  Mammy,  if  money  will  buy  her,  you  shall  have  her, 
too,"  said  Elsie  earnestly. 

The  remainder  of  the  short  voyage  was  a  happy  time 
to  the  whole  of  our  little  party,  Chloe,  with  her  restored 
husband  by  her  side,  now  looking  forward  to  the  visit  to 
Viamede  with  almost  unmingled  pleasure. 

As  they  passed  up  the  bay,  entered  Teche  Bayou  and 
pressed  on,  threading  their  way  through  lake  and  lakelet, 
past  plain  and  forest,  plantation  and  swamp,  Elsie  ex- 
claimed again  and  again  at  the  beauty  of  the  scenery. 
Cool  shady  dells  carpeted  with  the  rich  growth  of  flow- 
ers, miles  upon  miles  of  lawns  as  smoothly  shaven,  as 
velvety  green  and  as  nobly  shaded  by  magnificent  oaks 
and  magnolias,  as  any  king's  demesne;  lordly  villas 


48  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

peering  through  groves  of  orange  trees,  tall  white  .^ 
houses   and    the  long  rows  of  cabins  of   the  laborers ; 
united  to  form  a  panorama  of  surpassing  loveliness. 

"Is  Viamede  as  lovely  as  that,  papa?"  Elsie  would 
ask,  as  they  steamed  past  one  fine  residence  after 
another. 

"  Quite,"  he  would  reply  with  a  smile,  at  length  add- 
ing, *'  There  is  not  a  more  beautiful  or  valuable  estate  in 
the  country;  as  you  may  judge  for  yourself,  for  this 
is  it." 

"This,  papa?  Oh  it  is  lovely,  lovely!  and  every- 
thing in  such  perfect  order,"  she  cried  delightedly  as 
they  swept  on  past  a  large  sugar-house  and  an  immense 
orange  orchard,  whose  golden  fruit  and  glossy  leaves 
shone  brightly  in  the  slanting  rays  of  the  nearly  setting 
sun,  to  a  lawn  as  large,  as  thickly  carpeted  with  smoothly 
shaven  grass  and  many-hued  flowers,  and  as  finely  shaded 
with  giant  oaks,  graceful  magnolias,  and  groves  of  orange 
trees,  as  any  they  had  passed.  The  house — a  grand  old 
•mansion  with  spacious  rooms,  wide  cool  halls  and  corri- 
dors— was  now  in  full  view,  now  half  concealed  by  the 
trees  and  shrubbery. 

The  boat  rounded  to  at  a  little  pier  opposite  the  dwell- 
ing, and  in  another  moment  our  friends  had  landed,  and 
leaving  the  servants  to  attend  to  the  baggage  were  walk- 
ing on  towards  the  house. 


CHAPTER  SIXTH. 

M  Wilt  thou  draw  near  the  nature  of  the  gods  ? 
Draw  near  them  then  in  being  merciful, 
Sweet  mercy  is  nobility's  true  badge." 

— SHAKESPEARk. 

"PAPA,  it  seems  an  earthly  paradise,"  said  Elsie, 
"and  like  a  dream  that  I  have  seen  all  before." 

"A  dream  that  was  a  reality.  And  it  is  all  your 
own,  my  darling,"  he  answered  with  a  proud,  fond  look 
into  the  bright  animated  face,  keenly  enjoying  her 
pleasure. 

"But  what,  what  is  going  on  there?"  she  asked, 
gazing  intently  in  the  direction  of  the  negro  quarter, 
where  a  large  crowd  of  them,  probably  all  belonging  to 
the  plantation,  were  assembled. 

At  that  instant  something  rose  '<n  the  air  and  de- 
scended again,  and  a  wild  shriek,  a  woman's  wail  of 
agony,  rent  the  air. 

Elsie  flew  over  the  ground  as  though  she  had  been  a 
winged  creature,  her  father  having  to  exert  himself  to 
keep  pace  with  her.  But  the  whip  had  descended  again 
and  again,  another  and  another  of  those  wild  shrieks  tes- 
tifying to  the  sharpness  of  its  sting,  ere  they  were  near 
enough  to  interfere. 

So  taken  up  with  the  excitement  of  the  revolting  scene 
were  all  present,  that  the  landing  and  the  approach  of 
49 


50  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

our  friends  had  not  been  observed  until  Elsie,  nearing 
the  edge  of  the  crowd,  called  out  in  a  voice  of  authority, 
*nd  indignation,  "  Stop  !  not  another  blow  !  " 

The  crowd  parted,  showing  a  middle-aged  negress 
stripped  to  the  waist  and  tied  to  a  whipping  post,  wri- 
thing and  sobbing  with  pain  and  terror,  while  a  white  man 
stood  over  her  with  a  horse-whip  in  his  uplifted  hand, 
stayed  in  mid-air  by  the  sudden  appearance  of  those  in 
authority  over  him. 

"How  dare  you!  how  dare  you!"  cried  Elsie, 
stamping  her  foot,  and  drawing  a  long,  sobbing  breath. 
"Take  her  down  this  instant." 

"Mr.  Spriggs,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this?"  asked 
Mr.  Dinsmore,  in  tones  of  calm  displeasure ;  "  did  I  not 
forbid  all  cruel  punishment  on  this  estate?  " 

"I've  got  to  make  'em  work;  I'm  bound  they  shall, 
and  nothing  but  the  whip  '11  do  it  with  this  lazy  wretch," 
muttered  Spriggs,  dropping  his  whip  and  stepping  back 
a  little,  while  two  stalwart  fellows  obeyed  Elsie's  order 
to  take  the  woman  down,  a  murmur  at  the  same  time 
running  from  lip  to  lip,  "It's  Marse  Dinsmore,  and  our 
,  young  missus." 

Elsie  shuddered  and  wept  at  sight  of  the  bleeding 
back  and  shoulders.  "  Cover  her  up  quickly,  and  take 
her  away  where  she  can  lie  down  and  rest,"  she  said  to 
the  women  who  were  crowding  round  to  greet  and  wel- 
come herself.  "I  will  speak  to  you  all  afterwards,  I'm 
glad  to  be  here  among  you."  Then  leaning  over  the 
sufferer  for  an  instant,  with  fast-dropping  tears,  "Be 
comforted,"  she  said,  in  tones  of  gentle  compassion, 
"  you  shall  never  have  this  to  endure  again." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  51 

"  Come,  daughter,  speak  to  these  eager  people,  and  let 
ns  go  into  the  house,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

"Yes,  papa,  in  one  moment." 

Drawing  herself  up  to  her  full  height,  and  flashing 
one  look  of  scorn  and  indignation  out  of  her  dark  eyes 
upon  the  crest-fallen  Spriggs,  she  addressed  him  with  the 
air  of  a  queen.  "  You,  sir,  will  meet  me  in  the  library 
at  eight  o'clock  this  evening." 

Turning  to  the  men,  "  Dig  up  that  post,  and  split  it 
into  kindling-wood  for  the  kitchen  fire." 

Her  father,  while  shaking  hands  with  the  blacks, 
speaking  a  kindly  word  to  each,  regarded  her  with 
mingled  curiosity  and  admiration ;  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  his  child  as  he  had  believed  himself  to  be,  he  now 
saw  her  in  a  new  character. 

She  took  his  arm,  and  he  felt  that  she  was  trembling 
very  much.  He  supported  her  tenderly,  while  the 
women  flocked  about  them,  eagerly  welcoming  her  to 
Viamede ;  kissing  her  hand,  and  declaring  with  tears  in 
their  eyes,  that  it  was  just  their  "dear  dead  young 
missus  come  back  to  them,  like  a  beautiful  white 
angel." 

The  first  who  claimed  her  attention,  introduced  her- 
self as  "Aunt  Phillis  de  housekeepah.  An'  I'se  got 
eberyting  ready  for  you,  honey;  de  beds  is  aired,  de 
fires  laid  in  de  drawin'-room,  an'  library,  an'  sleepin' 
rooms,  an'  de  pantry  full  ob  the  nicest  tings  dis  chile  an* 
ole  Aunt  Sally  know  how  to  cook ;  an'  I  sent  Jack  right 
to  de  house  to  start  de  fires  de  fust  minute  dese  ole 
eyes  catch  sight  ob  massa  an'  young  missus,  an'  knows 
dey  hey  ah." 


52  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"My  dear  child,  all  this  is  quite  too  much  for  you," 
said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  attempting  to  draw  his  daughter 
away. 

"Just  a  moment,  papa,  please,"  she  answered  in  a 
slightly  unsteady  voice;  "let  me  speak  to  them  all." 
He  yielded,  but  cut  short  the  garrulity  of  some  who 
would  have  liked  to  mingle  reminiscences  of  her  baby- 
hood with  their  rejoicing  over  her  return,  telling  them 
they  must  reserve  such  communication  for  a  more  suita- 
ble time,  as  their  young  mistress  was  faint  and  weary, 
and  must  have  rest. 

The  appearance  of  Chloe  and  her  recovered  husband 
upon  the  scene,  now  created  a  diversion  in  their  favor, 
and  he  presently  succeeded  in  leading  Elsie  to  the 
house. 

A  young  mulatto  girl  followed  them  into  the  drawing- 
room,  where  a  bright  wood-fire  was  blazing  on  the 
hearth,  asking  if  she  should  take  Miss  Elsie's  things. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  removing  his  daughter's 
fiat  and  shawl,  and  handing  them  to  her. 

She  left    the   room;    and   taking  Elsie  in  his  arms, 
and  gently  laying  her  head  upon  his  breast,  "Let  the-' 
tears  have  their  way,  darling,"  he  said,   "it  will  do  you 
good." 

For  several  minutes  the  tears  came  in  floods.  "  Oh, 
papa,"  she  sobbed,  "to  think  that  my  people,  my  poor 
people,  should  be  so  served.  It  must  never,  never  be 
again  1 " 

"No,"  he  said,  "we  will  find  means  to  prevent  it. 
There,  you  feel  better  now,  do  you  not?  " 

"  Yes,    sir.      Papa  dear,   welcome,    welcome   to  my 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  53 

house;  the  dearest  guest  that  could  come  to  it."  And 
wiping  away  her  tears,  she  lifted~"her  loving  eyes  to  his, 
a  tender  smile  playing  about  the  sweet  lips. 

"Save  one,"  he  answered  half-playfully,  passing  his 
hand  caressingly  over  her  hair,  and  bending  down  to 
press  his  lips  on  brow,  and  cheeks,  and  mouth.  "  Is  not 
that  so?" 

"  No,  my  own  dear  father,  save  none,"  with  a  charm- 
ing blush,  but  eyes  looking  steadily  into  his  ;  "  when  he 
comes,  it  shall  be  as  master,  not  guest.  But  now  tell  me, 
please,  what  can  I  do  with  this  Spriggs  ?  I  should  like 
to  pay  him  a  month's  wages  in  advance,  and  start  him 
off  early  to-morrow  morning." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head  gravely.  "  It  would  not 
do,  my  child.  The  sugar-making  season  will  shortly  be- 
gin ;  he  understands  the  business  thoroughly ;  we 
could  not  supply  his  place  at  a  moment's  notice, 
or  probably  in  a  number  of  months,  and  the  whole  crop 
would  be  lost.  We  must  not  be  hasty  or  rash,  but  re- 
member the  Bible  command,  '  Let  your  moderation  be 
known  unto  all  men.'  Nor  should  we  allow  ourselves  to 
judge  the  man  too  hardly." 

"  Too  hardly,  papa  1  too  hardly,  when  he  has  shown 
himself  so  cruel  1  But  I  beg  pardon  for  interrupting 
you." 

"  Yes,  too  hardly,  daughter.  He  is  a  New  Englander, 
used  to  see  every  one  about  him  working  with  steady, 
persevering  industry,  and  the  indolent,  dawdling  ways  of 
the  blacks,  which  we  take  as  a  matter  of  course,  are  ex- 
ceedingly trying  to  him.  I  think  he  has  been  very  faith- 
ful to  your  interests,  and  that  probably  his  desire  and  de- 


54  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

termination  to  see  them  advanced  to  the  utmost,  led, 
more  than  anything  else,  to  the  act  which  seems  to  us  so 
cruel." 

"  And  could  he  suppose  that  I  would  have  blood 
wrung  from  my  poor  people  that  a  few  more  dollars 
might  find  their  way  into  my  purse  ?  "  she  cried  in  in- 
dignant sorrow  and  anger.  "  Oh,  papa,  I  am  not  so 
cruel,  you  know  I  am  not." 

"  Yes,  my  darling,  I  know  you  have  a  very  tender, 
loving  heart." 

"  But  what  shall  I  do  with  Spriggs  ?  " 

"  For  to-night,  express  your  sentiments  and  feelings  on 
the  subject  as  calmly  and  moderately  as  you  can,  and  en- 
join it  upon  him  to  act  in  accordance  with  them.  Then 
we  may  consider  at  our  leisure  what  further  measures 
can  be  taken.'1 

"  Papa,  you  are  so  much  wiser  and  better  than  I," 
she  said,  with  loving  admiration,  "I'm  afraid  if  you 
had  not  been  here  to  advise  me,  I  should  have  sent  him 
away  at  once,  with  never  a  thought  of  crops  or  anything 
except  securing  my  people  from  his  cruelties." 

"  You  should  never  allow  yourself  to  act  from  mere 
impulse,  except  it  be  unquestionably  a  right  one,  and  the. 
case  admitting  of  no  time  for  deliberation.  As  to  my 
superior  wisdom,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  "I  have  lived 
some  years  longer  than  you,  and  had  more  experience  in 
the  management  of  business  matters." 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  my  darling,  that  the  pleasure  of 
your  return  to  the  home  of  your  infancy  should  be  so 
marred.  But  you  have  scarcely  taken  a  look  yet  at  even 
this  room.  What  do  you  think  of  it  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  55 

She  glanced  about  her  with  freshly  arousea  curiosity 
and  interest.  "  Papa,  it  is  just  to  my  taste !  " 

The  firelight  gleamed  upon  rare  old  cabinets,  gems  of 
art  in  painting  and  statuary,  and  rich,  massive,  well-pre- 
served, though  old-fashioned  sofas,  chairs,  tables,  etc. 
But  it  was  already  growing  dark,  deep  shadows  were 
gathering  in  the  more  distant  parts  of  the  spacious  apart- 
ment, and  only  near  the  fire  could  objects  be  distinctly 
seen.  Elsie  was  about  to  ring  for  lights,  when  Sarah,  the 
mulatto  girl,  appeared,  bringing  them,  Chloe  following 
close  in  the  rear. 

"  Have  you  fires  and  lights  in  the  library,  the  dining- 
room,  and  your  master's  rooms  and  mine?"  inquired 
Elsie. 

"  De  fires  is  lit,  Miss  Elsie." 

"  Then  add  the  lights  at  once,  and  put  them  in  all  the 
principal  rooms  of  the  house.  We  will  have  an  illumina- 
tion in  honor  of  our  arrival,  papa,"  she  said,  in  a 
sprightly  tone,  turning  to  him  with  one  of  her  sweetest 
smiles,  «'  and  besides,  I  want  to  see  the  whole  house 
now." 

"Are  you  not  too  much  fatigued,  daughter?  and 
would  it  not  be  better  to  defer  it  till  to-morrow?  " 

"  I  don't  think  I'm  too  tired,  papa ;  but  if  you  forbid 
me " 

*  No,  I  don't  forbid  or  even  advise,  if  you  are  sure 
you  feel  equal  to  the  exertion." 

"  Thank  you,  sir,  I  think  I'll  be  better  able  to  sleep  if 
I've  seen  at  least  the  most  of  it ;  old  memories  are 
troubling  me,  and  I  want  to  see  how  far  they  are  correct. 
You  will  go  w^.th  me  ?  " 


56  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Certainly,"  he  said,  giving  her  his  arm.  "  But 
while  the  servants  are  obeying  your  order  in  regard  to  the 
lights,  let  us  examine  these  paintings  more  attentively. 
They  will  repay  close  scrutiny,  for  some  of  them  are  by 
the  first  masters.  Your  Grandfather  Grayson  seems  to 
have  been  a  man  of  cultivated  taste,  as  well  as  great 
business  talent." 

"  Yes,  papa.     What  is  it,  mammy?  " 

"  Does  you  want  me,  darlin'  ?  " 

"  No,  not  now.  Go  and  enjoy  yourself  with  your 
husband  and  old  friends." 

Chloe  expressed  her  grateful  thanks,  and  withdrew. 

Elsie  found  the  paintings  and  statuary  a  study,  and 
had  scarcely  finished  her  survey  of  the  drawing-room  and 
its  treasures  of  art,  when  Aunt  Phillis  came  to  ask  if  they 
would  have  tea  served  up  immediately. 

Elsie  looked  at  her  father. 

"  Yes,"  he  said  ;  "  you  will  feel  stronger  after  eating, 
and  it  is  about  our  usual  time." 

"  Then  let  us  have  it,  Aunt  Phillis.  How  is  that  poor 
creature  now  ? ' '  asked  her  young  mistress. 

"Suse,  honey?  oh,  she'll  do  well  'nuff;  don't  do  her 
no  harm  to  take  some  ob  de  lazy  blood  out.  Mussa 
Spriggs  not  so  terrible  cross,  Miss  Elsie ;  but  he  bound 
de  work  git  done,  an'  Suse  she  mighty  powerful  lazy, 
jes*  set  in  de  sun  an'  do  nuffin'  from  mornin'  to  night,  ef 
nobody  roun'  to  make  her  work." 

"  Ah,  that  is  very  bad  ;  we  must  try  to  reform  her  in 
some  way.  But  perhaps  she's  not  well." 

"  Dunno,  missus ;  she's  always  'plaining  ob  de  misery 
in  her  back,  an'  misery  in  her  head ;  but  don't  ebery  one 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  57 

hab  a  misery,  some  kind,  most  days  ?  an'  go  on  workin* 
all  de  same.  No,  missus,  Suse  she  powerful  lazy  ole 
nigga." 

With  that  Phillis  retired,  and  shortly  after,  tea  was  an- 
nounced as  ready. 

Elsie  played  the  part  of  hostess  to  perfection,  presiding 
over  the  tea-urn  with  ease  and  grace,  and  pressing  upon 
her  father  the  numerous  dainties  with  which  the  table  was 
loaded.  She  seemed  to  have  recovered  her  spirits,  and 
as  she  sat  there  gayly  chatting — of  the  room,  which 
pleased  her  as  entirely  as  the  other,  and  of  her  plans  for 
usefulness  and  pleasure  during  her  stay,  he  thought  he 
had  never  seen  her  look  happier  or  more  beautiful. 

"What  rooms  have  you  prepared  for  your  mistress, 
Aunt  Phillis?"  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  as  they  rose  from 
the  table. 

"  De  same  whar  she  was  born,  massa,  an'  whar  her 
dear  bressed  ma  stay  when  she  livin'  heyah." 

A  slight  shadow  stole  over  Elsie's  bright  face.  "  That 
was  right,"  she  said,  low  and  softly.  "I  should  prefer 
them  to  any  others.  But  where  are  papa's  rooms?  " 

"  Jes'  across  de  hall,  Miss  Elsie." 

"That  is  a  good  arrangement,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore. 
"  Now,  daughter,  I  think  we  should  repair  to  the  library. 
It  is  near  the  hour  you  appointed  for  Mr.  Spriggs." 

"Just  as  handsome,  as  tastefully,  appropriately,  and 
luxuriously  furnished  as  the  others,"  was  Elsie's  com- 
ment on  the  library.  "  I  seem  to  see  the  same  hand 
everywhere." 

"Yes,  and  it  is  the  same  all  over  the  house,"  replied 
her  father.  "The  books  here  will  delight  you;  for  a 


$8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

private  library  it  is  a  very  fine  one,  containing  many 
hundred  volumes,  as  you  may  see  at  a  glance ;  standard 
works  on  history,  and  the  arts  and  sciences,  biographies, 
travels,  works  of  reference,  the  works  of  the  best  poets, 
novelists,  etc." 

"Ah,  how  we  will  enjoy  them  while  here!  But  it 
seems  a  sad  pity  they  should  have  lain  on  those  shelves 
unused  for  so  many  years." 

-'Not  entirely,  my  child;  I  have  enjoyed  them  in  my 
brief  visits  to  the  plantation,  and  have  always  allowed 
the  overseer  free  access  to  them,  on  the  single  condition 
that  they  should  be  handled  with  care,  and  each  returned 
promptly  to  its  proper  place  when  done  with.  But  come, 
take  this  easy  chair  by  this  table;  here  are  some  fine  en- 
gravings I  want  you  to  look  at." 

Elsie  obeyed,  but  had  scarcely  seated  herself  when  the 
door  was  thrown  open  and  a  servant's  voice  announced, 
"Massa  Spriggs,  Massa  Dinsmore  and  Miss  Elsie." 

Spriggs,  a  tall,  broad-shouldered,  powerfully-built 
man,  with  dark  hair  and  beard  and  a  small,  keen  black 
eye,  came  forward  with  a  bold  free  air  and  a  "  Good- 
even',  miss,  good-even',  sir;  "  adding,  as  he  helped  him- 
self to  a  seat  without  waiting  for  an  invitation,  "  Well, 
here  I  am,  and  I  s'pose  you've  somethin'  to  say  or  you 
wouldn't  have  appointed  the  meetin'." 

"Yes,  Mr.  Spriggs,"  said  Elsie,  folding  her  pretty 
hands  in  her  lap  and  looking  steadily  and  coldly  into  his 
brazen  face,  "I  have  this  to  say;  that  I  entirely  disap- 
prove of  flogging,  and  will  have  none  of  it  on  the  estate. 
I  hope  you  understand  me." 

"  That's   plain   English   and   easy   understood,    Mis* 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  59 

Dinsmore,  and  of  course  you  have  a  right  to  dictate  in 
the  matter ;  but  I  tell  you  what,  these  darkies  o'  youn 
are  a  dreadful  lazy  set,  specially  that  Suse;  and  it's 
mighty  hard  for  folks  that's  been  used  to  seem'  things 
done  up  spick  and  span  and  smart  to  put  up  with  it." 

"But  some  amount  of  patience  with  the  natural  slow- 
ness of  the  negro  is  a  necessary  trait  in  the  character  of 
an  overseer  who  wishes  to  remain  in  my  employ." 

"Well,  miss,  I  always  calculate  to  do  the  very  best  1 
can  by  my  employers,  and  when  you  come  to  look  round 
the  estate,  I  guess  you'll  find  things  in  prime  order;  but 
I  couldn't  ha'  done  it  without  lettin'  the  darkies  know 
they'd  got  to  toe  the  mark  right  straight." 

"They  must  attend  to  the  work,  of  course,  and  if 
they  won't  do  so  willingly,  must  under  compulsion ;  but 
there  are  milder  measures  than  this  brutal  flogging." 

"  What  do  you  prescribe,  Miss  Dinsmore?  " 

"  Deprive  them  of  some  privilege,  or  lock  them  up  on 
bread  and  water  for  a  few  days,"  Elsie  answered ;  then 
turned  an  appealing  look  upon  her  father,  who  had  as  yet 
played  the  part  of  a  mere  listener. 

"I  have  never  allowed  any  flogging  on  my  estate,"  he 
observed,  addressing  Spriggs,  "and  I  cannot  think  it  at 
all  necessary." 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence,  Spriggs  sitting  looking 
into  the  fire,  a  half-smile  playing  about  his  lips ;  then 
turning  to  Elsie,  "I  thought,  miss,  you'd  a  mind  this 
evening  to  dismiss  me  on  the  spot,"  he  remarked  **»- 
quiringly. 

She  flushed  slightly,  but  replied  with  dignity,  "  If  you 
Bill  comply  with  my  directions,  sir,  pledging  yourself 


60  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

never  again  to  be  so  cruel,  I  have  no  desire  to  dismiss 
you  from  my  service." 

"All  right  then,  miss.  I  promise,  and  shall  still  do 
&e  best  I  can  for  your  interests ;  but  if  they  suffer  be- 
cause I'm  forbidden  to  use  the  lash,  please  remember  it's 
not  my  fault." 

"I  am  willing  to  take  the  risk,"  she  answered,  inti- 
mating with  a  motion  of  her  hand  that  she  considered 
the  interview  at  an  end  ;  whereupon  he  rose  and  bowed 
himself  out. 

"Now,  papa,  for  our  tour  of  inspection,"  she  cried 
gayly,  rising  as  she  spoke,  and  ringing  for  a  servant  to 
carry  the  light.  "  But  first  please  tell  me  if  I  was  suffi- 
ciently moderate." 

"You  did  very  well,"  he  answered,  smiling.  "You 
take  to  the  role  of  mistress  much  more  naturally  than  I 
expected." 

"  Yet  it  does  seem  very  odd  to  me  to  be  giving  orders 
•while  you  sit  by  a  mere  looker-on.  But,  dear  papa, 
please  remember  I  am  still  your  own  child,  and  ready  to 
submit  to  your  authority,  whenever  you  see  fit  to  exert 
it." 

"  I  know  it,  my  darling,"  he  said,  passing  an  arm 
about  her  waist,  as  they  stood  together  in  froi:  of  the 
fire,  and  gazing  fondly  down  into  the  sweet  fair  face. 

Aunt  Chloe  answered  the  bell,  bringing  a  lamp  in  her 
hand. 

"That  is  right,  mammy,"  Elsie  said.  " Now  lead  the 
way  over  the  house." 

As  they  passed  from  room  to  room,  and  from  one  spa- 
cious hall  or  corriMor  to  another.  Elsie  expressed  her  en- 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  6t 

tire  satisfaccion  with  them  and  their  appointments,  and 
accorded  to  Aunt  Phillis  the  meed  of  praise  due  her 
careful  housekeeping. 

"And  here,  my  darling,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said  at  length, 
leading  the  way  through  a  beautiful  boudoir  and  dress- 
ing-room into  an  equally  elegant  and  attractive  bedroom 
beyond,  "they  tell  me  you  were  born,  and  your  beloved 
mother  passed  from  earth  to  heaven." 

"  An'  eberyting  in  de  room  stands  jees'  as  dey  did  den, 
honey,"  said  Aunt  Chloe.  And  approaching  the  bed, 
her  eyes  swimming  in  tears,  and  laying  her  hand  upon 
the  pillow,  "  jes'  here  my  precious  young  missus  lie,  wid 
cheeks  'mos'  as  white  as  de  linen,  an'  eyes  so  big  an' 
bright,  an'  de  lubly  curls  streamin'  all  roun',  an'  she  say, 
weak  an'  low,  'Mammy,  bring  me  my  baby.'  Den  I 
put  you  in  her  arms,  darlin',  an'  she  kiss  you  all  ober 
your  tiny  face,  an'  de  tears  an'  sobs  come  fast  while  she 
say,  '  Poor  little  baby ;  no  fader  no  mudder  to  lub  her  ! 
nobody  but  you,  mammy ;  take  her  an'  bring  her  up  to 
lub  de  dear  Lord  Jesus.'  " 

Silent  tears  rolled  down  Elsie's  cheeks  as  she  looked 
and  listened ;  but  her  father  drew  her  to  his  breast  and 
kissed  them  away,  his  own  eyes  brimming,  his  heart  too 
full  for  speech. 

Presently  he  led  her  back  to  the  boudoir,  and  showed 
her  the  portraits  of  her  maternal  grandparents,  and  one 
of  her  mother,  taken  at  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age. 

"What  a  lovely  little  girl  she  was,"  murmured  Elsie, 
gazing  lovingly  upon  it. 

"Very  much  like  what  her  daughter  was  at  the  same 
age,"  he  answered.  "But  come,  this,  too,  will  interest 


C2  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

you."  And  lifting  the  lid  of  a  dainty  work-basket,  he 
pointed  to  a  bit  of  embroidery,  in  which  the  needle  was 
still  sticking,  as  though  it  had  been  laid  down  by  the  deft 
fingers  but  a  few  moments  ago. 

Elsie  caught  it  up  and  kissed  it,  thinking  of  the  touch 
of  those  dear  dead  fingers,  that  seemed  to  linger  over  it 
yet. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTH. 

"  She  was  the  pride 
Of  her  familiar  sphere,  the  daily  joy 
Of  all  who  on  her  gracefulness  might  gaze, 
And  in  the  light  and  music  of  her  way 
Have  a  companion's  portrait." 

— WILLIS'  POEMS. 

ELSIE  had  fallen  asleep  thinking  of  the  dear  mother 
whose  wealth  she  inherited,  and  whose  place  she  was 
now  filling ;  thinking  of  her  as  supremely  blest,  in  that 
glorious,  happy  land,  where  sin  and  sorrow  are  unknown. 
Thinking,  too,  of  Him,  through  whose  shed  blood  she 
had  found  admittance  there. 

The  same  sweet  thoughts  were  still  in  the  loving  daugh- 
ter's mind,  as  she  woke  to  find  the  morning  sun  shining 
brightly,  a  fire  blazing  cheerily  on  the  hearth,  and  Aunt 
Chloe  coming  in  with  a  silver  waiter  filled  with  oranges 
prepared  for  eating  in  the  manner  usual  in  the  tropics. 

She  had  gathered  them  the  night  before,  taken  off  the 
peel,  leaving  the  thick  white  skin  underneath  except  on 
the  top  of  each,  where  she  cut  it  away  from  a  spot  about 
the  size  of  a  silver  quarter  of  a  dollar.  She  then  placed 
them  on  a  waiter,  with  the  cut  part  uppermost,  and  set 
them  where  the  dew  would  fall  on  them  all  night. 
Morning  found  them  with  the  skin  hard  and  leathery, 
but  filled  with  delicious  juice,  which  could  be  readily 
withdrawn  from  it. 

63 


64  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

At  that  sight,  a  sudden  memory  seemed  to  hasn  upon 
Elsie,  and  starting  up  in  the  bed,  "  Mammy  ! "  she 
cried,  "  didn't  you  do  that  very  thing  when  I  was  a 
child?" 

"  What,  honey  ?  bring  de  oranges  in  de  mornin'  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  seem  to  remember  your  coming  in  at  that 
door,  with  just  such  a  waiterful." 

"Yes,  darlin',  de  folks  allus  eats  dem  'foah  breakfast. 
Deys  jes'  lubly,  Miss  Elsie ;  massa  say  so,  lubly  and  de- 
licious." And  she  brought  the  waiter  to  her  bedside, 
holding  it  out  for  her  young  mistress  to  help  herself. 

"  Yes,  mammy  dear,  they  look  very  tempting,  but  I 
won't  eat  with  unwashed  hands  and  face,"  said  Elsie 
gayly.  "And  so  papa  has  stolen  a  march  upon  me  and 
risen  first?  " 

"  Yes,  darlin',  massa  out  on  the  veranda,  but  he  say 
*  Let  your  missus  sleep  long  as  she  will.'  " 

"  My  always  kind  and  indulgent  father !  Mammy, 
I'll  take  a  bath ;  and  then  while  you  arrange  my  hair, 
I'll  try  the  oranges.  Go  now  and  ask  papa  when  he  will 
have  his  breakfast,  and  tell  Aunt  Phillis  to  see  that  it  is 
ready  at  the  hour  he  names." 

Chloe  obeyed,  and  an  hour  later  Elsie  met  her  father 
in  the  breakfast-room  so  glad,  so  gay,  so  bright,  that  his 
}>eart  swelled  with  joy  and  pleasure  in  his  child,  and  all 
fears  that  she  had  overfatigued  herself  vanished  from  his 
mind. 

She  was  full  of  plans  for  the  comfort  and  profit  of  her 
people,  but  all  to  be  subject  to  his  approval.  "Papa 
dear,"  she  said  as  soon  as  their  morning  greetings  had 
been  exchanged,  "I  think  of  sending  for  a  physician  to 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  6i 

examine  Suse  and  tell  us  whether  there  is  reason  for  her 
complaints.  She  must  not  be  forced  to  work  if  she  is 
really  ill." 

"I  think  it  would  be  well,"  he  replied.  "There  is 
an  excellent  physician  living  about  three  miles  from 
here." 

Elsie  was  prompt  in  action  by  both  nature  and  train- 
ing, and  instantly  summoning  a  servant,  despatched  him 
at  once  on  the  proposed  errand. 

"  And  now  what  next?  "  smilingly  inquired  her  father. 

"Well,  papa,  after  breakfast  and  prayers — how  some 
of  the  old  servants  seemed  to  enjoy  them  last  night — I 
think  of  going  down  to  the  quarter  to  see  what  may  be 
needed  there.  Unless  you  have  some  other  plan  for  me," 
she  added  quickly. 

"Suppose  we  first  mount  our  horses  and  ride  over  the 
estate,  to  learn  for  ourselves  whether  Mr.  Spriggs  has 
been  as  faithful  as  he  would  have  us  believe." 

"Ah  yes,  papa ;  yours  is  always  the  better  plan." 

Their  ride  in  the  clear,  sweet  morning  air  was  most 
delightful,  and  both  felt  gratified  with  the  fine  appear- 
ance of  the  crops  and  the  discovery  that  Spriggs'  boast 
was  no  idle  one ;  everything  being  in  the  nicest  order. 

They  took  the  quarter  on  the  way  to  the  house,  and 
dismounting,  entered  one  neatly  whitewashed  cabin  after 
another,  kindly  inquiring  into  the  condition  and  wants 
of  the  inmates,  Elsie  making  notes  on  her  tablets  that 
nothing  might  be  forgotten. 

Everywhere  the  visit  was  received  with  joy  and  grati- 
tude, and  an  almost  worshipful  homage  paid  to  the  sweet 
young  mistress  whom  they  seemed  to  regard  as  akin  to 


-\ 


66  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

the  angels  :  probably  in  a  great  measure  because  of  her 
extraordinary  likeness  to  her  mother,  of  whom,  for  so 
many  years  they  had  been  accustomed  to  think  and 
speak  as  one  of  the  heavenly  host. 

Spriggs'  victim  of  the  previous  day  was  in  bed,  com- 
plaining much  of  a  misery  in  back  and  head  and  limbs. 

"  De  doctah  hab  been  heyah,"  she  said,  "  an'  leff  me 
dese  powdahs  to  take,"  drawing  a  tiny  package  from 
under  her  pillow. 

Elsie  spoke  soothingly  to  her ;  said  she  should  have 
some  broth  from  the  house,  and  should  be  excused  from 
work  till  the  doctor  pronounced  her  quite  fit  for  it  again ; 
and  left  her  apparently  quite  happy. 

It  was  the  intention  of  our  friends  to  spend  some 
weeks  at  Viamede. 

"  I  want  you  to  have  every  possible  enjoyment  while 
here,  my  darling,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  as  they  sat  to- 
gether resting  after  their  ride,  in  the  wide  veranda  at  the 
front  of  the  house,  looking  out  over  the  beautiful  lawn, 
the  bayou,  and  the  lovely  scenery  beyond.  "  There  are 
pleasant  neighbors  who  will  doubtless  call  when  they  hear 
of  our  arrival." 

"  I  almost  wish  they  may  not  hear  of  it  then,"  Elsie 
said  half  laughing  ;  "  I  just  want  to  be  left  free  from  the 
claims  of  society  for  this  short  time,  that  I  may  fully  en- 
joy being  alone  with  my  father  and  attending  to  the  com- 
fort of  my  people.  But  excuse  me,  dear  papa,  I  fear  I 
interrupted  you." 

"  I  excuse  you  on  condition  that  you  are  not  again 
guilty  of  such  a  breach  of  good  manners.  I  was  going 
on  to  say  there  are  delightful  drives  and  walks  in  the 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  67 

vicinity,  of  which  I  hope  we  will  be  able  to  make  good 
use ;  also,  we  will  have  a  row  now  and  then  on  the  bayou, 
and  many  an  hour  of  quiet  enjoyment  of  the  contents  of 
the  library." 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  hope  so;  I  do  so  enjoy  a  nice  book, 
especially  when  read  with  you.  But  I  think  that,  for  the 
present  at  least,  I  must  spend  a  part  of  each  day  in  at- 
tending to  the  preparation  of  winter  clothing  for  house- 
servants  and  field  hands." 

"I  won't  have  you  doing  the  actual  work,  the  cutting 
out  and  sewing,  I  mean,"  he  answered  decidedly ;  "the 
head  work,  calculating  how  much  material  is  needed, 
what  it  will  cost,  etc.,  may  be  yours;  but  you  have 
servants  enough  to  do  all  the  rest." 

"  But,  papa,  consider;  over  three  hundred  to  clothe, 
and  I  want  it  all  done  while  I  am  here  to  oversee." 

"  Have  not  some  of  the  house-servants  been  trained 
as  seamstresses?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  two  of  them,  mammy  tells  me." 

"  Very  well ;  she  knows  how  to  run  a  sewing-machine. 
Send  for  one  when  you  order  your  material ;  both  can  be 
had  in  the  nearest  town.  Aunt  Chloe  can  soon  teach  the 
girls  how  to  manage  it ;  Uncle  Joe,  too  ;  he  has  had  no 
regular  work  assigned  him  yet,  and  the  four  can  certainly 
do  all  without  anything  more  than  a  little  oversight  from 
you  ;  yes,  without  even  that." 

"What  a  capital  planner  you  are,  papa,"  she  said 
brightly ;  "I  never  thought  of  getting  a  machine  or  set- 
ting Uncle  Joe  to  running  it ;  but  I  am  sure  it's  just  the 
thing  to  do.  Mammy  can  cut  and  the  girls  baste,  and 
among  them  the  machine  can  easily  be  kept  going  from 


68  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

morning  to  night.  I'll  make  out  my  orders  and  send  for 
the  things  at  once." 

"  That  is  right,  daughter ;  it  pleases  me  well  to  note 
how  you  put  in  practice  the  lesson  of  promptness  I  have 
always  tried  to  teach  you.  I  will  help  you  in  making  your 
estimate  of  quantities  needed,  prices  to  be  paid,  etc.,  and 
I  think  we  can  accomplish  the  whole  before  dinner. 
Come  to  the  library  and  let  us  to  work." 

"  You  dear,  kind  father,  always  trying  to  help  me  and 
smooth  the  least  roughness  out  of  my  path,  and  make 
life  as  enjoyable  to  me  as  possible,"  she  said,  laying  her 
hand  on  his  arm  and  looking  up  into  his  face  with  eyes 
beaming  with  filial  love,  as  they  rose  and  stood  together 
for  a  moment. 

"A  good  daughter  deserves  a  good  father,"  he 
answered,  smoothing  with  soft  caressing  motion  the  shi- 
ning hair.  "  But  have  you  the  necessary  data  for  our  es- 
timates ? ' ' 

"The  number  to  be  clothed,  papa?  I  know  how 
many  house-servants,  how  many  babies  and  older  chil- 
dren at  the  quarter,  but  not  the  number  of  field  hands." 

"  That  will  be  easily  ascertained.  I  will  send  a  note 
to  Spriggs,  w^o  can  tell  us  all  about  it." 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  plans  were  carried  out  to  the  letter, 
and  with  entire  success.  This  was  Saturday ;  the  orders 
were  sent  that  afternoon,  and  on  Monday  morning  the 
work  began.  Aunt  Chloe  proved  fully  equal  to  the  cut- 
ting of  the  garments,  and  Uncle  Joe  an  apt  scholar  under 
her  patient,  loving  teaching,  and  a  willing  worker  at  his 
new  employment.  There  was  scarcely  need  of  even 
oversight  on  the  part  of  the  young  mistress.  She  would 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  6g 

drop  in  occasionally,  commend  their  industry,  and  in- 
quire if  anything  were  wanting ;  then  felt  free  for  books, 
rides  or  walks,  music  or  conversation  with  her  father. 

But  she  was  often  down  at  the  quarter  visiting  the  sick, 
the  aged  and  infirm,  seeing  that  their  wants  were  sup- 
plied, reading  the  Bible  to  them,  praying  with  them,  tell- 
ing of  the  better  land  where  no  trouble  or  sorrow  can 
come,  and  trying  to  make  the  way  to  it,  through  the 
shed  blood  of  Christ,  very  plain  and  clear.  Then  she 
would  gather  the  children  about  her  and  tell  them  of  the 
blessed  Jesus  and  His  love  for  little  ones. 

"  Does  He  lub  niggahs,  missus?  "  queried  one  grinning 
little  wooly  head. 

"  Yes,  if  they  love  Him  :  and  they  won't  be  negroes 
in  heaven." 

"White  folks,  missus?  Oh,  dat  nice!  Guess  I  go 
dar;  ef  dey  let  me  in." 

But  we  are  anticipating  somewhat,  though  Elsie  found 
time  for  a  short  visit  to  the  sick  and  aged  on  the  after- 
noon of  even  that  first  day  at  Viamede.  The  next  was 
the  Sabbath,  and  as  lovely  a  day  as  could  be  desired. 
The  horses  were  ordered  for  an  early  hour,  and  father 
and  daughter  rode  some  miles  together  to  morning  serv- 
ice, then  home  again. 

As  the  shadows  began  to  lengthen  in  the  afternoon, 
Elsie  was  sitting  alone  on  the  veranda,  her  father  having 
left  her  side  but  a  moment  before,  when  an  old  negro, 
familiarly  known  as  Uncle  Ben,  came  round  the  corner 
of  the  house,  and  slowly  approached  her. 

Very  sweet  and  fair,  very  beautiful  she  looked  to  his 
admiring  eyes.  She  held  a  Bible  in  her  hand,  and  was 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

so  intent  upon  its  perusal  that  she  was  not  aware  of  his 
coming  until  he  had  drawn  quite  near.  Ascending  the 
steps,  and  standing  at  a  respectful  distance,  hat  in  hand, 
he  waited  till  she  should  notice  and  address  him. 

Glancing  up  from  her  book,  "Ah,  Uncle  Ben,  good 
evening,"  she  said.  "  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

"  Missus,"  he  answered,  making  a  low  salam,  "all  de 
darkies  is  gadered  togedder  under  a  tree  'round  de  house 
yondah,  and  dey  'pint  me  committee  to  come  an'  ax  de 
young  missus  .vould  she  be  so  kind  for  to  come  an'  read 
the  Bible  to  dem,  an'  talk,  an'  pray,  an'  sing  like  she  do 
for  de  sick  ones  down  to  de  quarter?  Dey  be  berry 
glad,  missus,  an'  more  dan  obliged." 

"  Indeed  I  will,  uncle,"  Elsie  said,  rising  at  once  and 
going  with  him,  Bible  in  hand ;  "  I  had  been  thinking 
of  doing  this  very  thing." 

She  found  a  rustic  seat  placed  for  her  under  a  giant 
oak,  and  garlanded  with  fragrant  flowers.  Aunt  Phillis, 
Aunt  Chloe,  Uncle  Joe,  and  the  rest  of  the  house-serv- 
ants, gathered  in  a  semicircle  around  it,  while  beyond, 
the  men,  women,  and  children  from  the  quarter  sat  or 
lay  upon  the  grass,  enjoying  the  rest  from  the  toils  of  the 
week,  the  quiet,  the  balmy  air  laden  with  the  fragrance 
of  the  magnolia  and  orange,  and  all  the  sweet  sights  and 
sounds  of  rural  life  in  that  favored  region 

Every  one  rose  at  the  appearance  of  their  young  mis- 
tress, and  there  were  murmurs  of  delight  and  gratitude 
coming  from  all  sides.  "  Now  bress  de  Lord,  she  read 
the  good  book  for  us."  "She  good  an' lubly  as  de 
angels."  "  Missus  berry  kind,  de  darkies  neber  for« 

!*•" 


ELSIE'S  WOMAfl  tfOOD.  71 

Elsie  acknowledged  it  all  with  a  smile  and  a  few  kindly 
words,  then  commanding  silence  by  a  slight  motion  of 
the  hand,  addressed  them  in  a  clear,  melodious  voice, 
which,  though  not  loud,  could  be  distinctly  heard  by 
every  one  of  the  now  almost  breathless  listeners. 

"  I  shall  read  to  you  of  Jesus  and  some  of  His  own 
words,"  she  said,  "but  first  we  will  ask  Him  to  help  us 
to  understand,  to  love,  and  to  obey  His  teachings." 

Then  folding  her  hands  and  lifting  her  eyes  to  the 
clear  blue  sky  above,  she  led  them  in  a  prayer  so  simple 
and  childlike,  so  filial  and  loving  in  spirit  and  expres- 
sion, that  the  dullest  understood  it,  and  felt  that  she 
spoke  to  One  who  was  very  near  and  dear  to  her. 

After  that  she  read  with  the  same  distinct  utterance 
the  third  chapter  of  John's  Gospel,  and  commented 
briefly  upon  it.  "  You  all  want  to  go  to  heaven? "  she 
said,  closing  the  book. 

"  Yes,  Miss  Elsie."     "Yes  missus,  we  all  does." 

"  But  to  be  able  to  go  there  you  must  know  the  way,  and 
now  I  want  to  make  sure  you  do  know  it.  Can  you  tell 
me  what  you  must  do  to  be  saved? " 

There  were  various  answers.  "Be  good."  "Mine 
de  rules  an'  do  'bout  right."  "Pray  to  de  Lord,"  etc., 
etc. 

Elsie  shook  her  head  gravely.  "All  that  you  must 
do,  and  more  besides.  What  does  Jesus  say  ?  '  God  so 
loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  His  only  begotten  Son,  that 
whosoever  believeth  in  Him  should  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life.'  We  must  believe  in  Jesus — believe  all 
that  the  Bible  tells  us  about  Him,  that  He  was  very  God 
*nd  very  man,  that  He  came  down  from  heaven,  was 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

born  a  little  babe  and  laid  in  a  manger,  that  He  grew 
up  to  be  a  man,  went  about  doing  good,  and  at  last  suffered 
and  died  the  cruel  death  of  the  cross ;  and  all  to  save 
poor  lost  sinners. 

"  But  even  that  is  not  enough  :  the  devils  believe  so 
much ;  they  know  it  is  all  true.  But  beside  this,  we 
must  believe  on  Christ  Jesus.  He  offers  to  be  our 
Saviour.  '  Come  unto  Me  .  .  .  and  I  will  give  you 
rest.'  '  Him  that  cometh  unto  Me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast 
out.'  And  you  must  come,  you  must  take  the  eternal 
life  He  offers  you  j  you  must  rest  on  Him  and  Him  only. 

"  Suppose  you  were  out  on  the  bayou  yonder,  and  the 
boat  should  upset  and  float  beyond  your  reach,  or  be 
swept  away  from  you  by  the  wind  and  waves,  and  you 
couldn't  swim ;  but  just  as  you  are  sinking,  you  find  a 
plank  floating  near;  you  catch  hold  of  it,  you  find  it 
strong  and  large  enough  to  bear  your  weight,  and  you 
throw  yourself  upon  it  and  cling  to  it  for  life.  Just  so 
you  must  cast  yourself  on  Jesus,  and  cling  to  Him  with 
all  your  strength ;  and  He  will  save  you ;  for  He  is  able 
and  willing  '  to  save  to  the  uttermost  all  that  come  unto 
God  by  Him.' 

"  He  will  wash  away  your  sins  in  His  own  precious 
blood,  and  dress  you  in  the  beautiful  robe  of  His  perfect 
righteousness ;  that  is,  set  His  goodness  to  your  account, 
so  that  you  will  be  saved  just  as  if  you  had  been  a* 
good  and  holy  as  He  was.  Then  you  will  love  Him  and 
try  to  do  right  to  please  Him ;  not  to  buy  heaven ;  you 
cannot  do  that,  for  '  all  our  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy 
/ags,'  and  we  cannot  be  saved  unless  we  trust  only  ir 
Jesus  and  His  righteousness." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  73 

Something  in  the  faces  before  her  caused  filsie  to  turn 
her  head.  Her  father  stood  with  grave,  quiet  air,  but 
a  few  feet  from  her. 

"Papa,"  she  said,  in  an  undertone,  and  blushing 
slightly,  "  I  did  not  know  you  were  here.  Will  you  not 
speak  to  them  ?  you  can  do  it  so  much  better  than  I." 

She  sat  down,  and  stepping  to  her  side  he  made  a 
brief  and  simply  worded  address  on  the  necessity  of  re- 
pentance and  faith  in  Jesus,  "the  only  Saviour  of  sin- 
ners," His  willingness  to  save  <z//who  come  to  Him,  and 
the  great  danger  of  delay  in  coming.  Then  with  a 
short  prayer  and  the  singing  of  a  hymn,  they  were  dis- 
missed. 

With  murmured  thanks  and  many  a  backward  look 
of  admiring  love  at  their  already  almost  idolized  young 
mistress,  and  her  father,  who  had  won  their  thorough 
respect  and  affection  years  ago,  they  scattered  to  their 
homes. 

"You  must  have  a  shawl  and  hat,  for  the  air  be- 
gins to  grow  cool,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore  to  his  daughter. 

"Yes,  massa,  I'se  brought  dem,"  said  Chloe,  hurry- 
ing up  almost  out  of  breath,  with  the  required  articles  in 
her  hand. 

"Thank  you,  mammy,  you  are  always  careful  of  your 
nursling ;  "  Elsie  said,  smilingly,  as  the  shawl  was 
wrapped  carefully  about  her  shoulders  and  the  hat  placed 
upon  her  head. 

Her  father  drew  her  hand  within  his  arm  and  led  her 
across  the  lawn. 

"  There  is  one  spot,  very  dear  to  us  both,  which  we 
have  not  yet  visited/'  he  said,  low  and  feelingly,  "and 


74  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

I  have  rather  wondered  at  your  delay  in  asking  me  to 
take  you  there." 

She  understood  him.  "  Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  "I  should 
have  done  so  last  evening,  but  that  you  looked  weary. 
It  has  hardly  been  out  of  my  mind  since  we  came,  and  I 
have  only  waited  for  a  suitable  time." 

"None  could  be  better  than  the  present,"  he 
answered. 

On  a  gently  sloping  hillside,  and  beneath  the  shade  of 
a  beautiful  magnolia,  they  found  what  they  sought:  a 
grave,  with  a  headstone  on  which  was  carved  the  in- 
scription : 

"  Fell  asleep  in  Jesus, 

March  15,  18 — , 
ELSIE,  WIFE  OF  HORACE  DINSMORE, 

and  only  remaining  child  of 
WILLIAM  AND  ELSPETH  GRAYSON, 

Aged  1 6  years,  and  2  weeks. 
•Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the  Lord.' " 

They  read  it  standing  side  by  side. 

"How  young,"  murmured  the  daughter,  tears  filling 
her  eyes,  "how  young  to  be  a  wife,  a  mother,  and  to 
die  and  leave  husband  and  child  !  Oh,  papa,  how  I 
used  to  long  for  her,  and  dream  of  her — my  own  precious 
mamma !  " 

"When,  my  darling?"  he  asked  in  moved  tones, 
drawing  her  tenderly  to  him  and  passing  an  arm  about 
her  waist. 

"Before  I  knew  you,  papa,  and  before  you  began  to 
love  me  so  dearly  and  be  father  and  mother  both,  to  me, 
as  you  have  been  for  so  many  years."  The  low,  sweet 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  75 

voice  was  tremulous  with  emotion,  and  the  soft  eyes  lifted 
to  his  were  brimming  over  with  tears  of  mingled  grief  and 
joy,  gratitude  and  love. 

"I  have  tried  to  be,"  he  said;  "but  no  one  could 
supply  her  place.  What  a  loving,  tender  mother  she 
would  have  been  !  But  let  us  forget  our  loss  in  the  bliss 
of  knowing  that  it  is  so  well  with  her. ' ' 

It  was  a  family  burying-ground ;  there  were  other 
graves;  those  of  our  Elsie's  grandparents,  and  several 
of  their  sons  and  daughters  who  had  died  in  infancy  or 
early  youth ;  and  in  the  midst  uprose  a  costly  monument, 
placed  there  by  Mr.  Grayson  after  the  death  of  his  wife. 
The  spot  showed  the  same  care  as  the  rest  of  the  estate, 
and  was  lovely  with  roses  and  other  sweet  flowers  and 
shrubs. 

"My  mother's  grave!"  said  Elsie,  bending  over  it 
again.  "  Papa,  let  us  kneel  down  beside  it  and  pray  that 
we  may  meet  her  in  heaven." 

He  at  once  complied  with  the  request,  giving  thanks 
for  the  quiet  rest  of  her  who  slept  in  Jesus,  and  asking 
that,  when  each  of  them  had  done  and  suffered  all  God's 
holy  will  here  on  earth,  they  might  be  reunited  to  her 
above,  and  join  in  her  glad  song  of  praise  to  redeeming 
love. 

Elsie  joined  fervently  in  the  "Amen,"  and  rising,  they 
lingered  a  moment  longer,  then  wended  their  way  in 
sweet  and  solemn  silence  to  the  house. 

They  sat  together  in  the  library  after  tea,  each  occu- 
pied with  a  book.  But- Elsie  seemed  little  interested  in 
hers,  looking  off  the  page  now  and  then,  as  if  in  deep 
and  troubled  thought.  At  length  closing  it,  she  stole 


76  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

round  to  the  side  of  her  father's  easy  chair,  and  taking 
possession  of  a  footstool,  laid  her  head  on  his  knee. 

"  I  have  my  little  girl  again  to-night,"  he  said,  passing 
his  hand  caressingly  over  her  hair  and  cheek. 

"  I  almost  wish  it  was,  papa." 

"Why?  is  anything  troubling  you,  dearest?"  And 
he  pushed  his  book  aside,  ready  to  give  his  whole  atten- 
tion to  her. 

"  I  am  anxious  about  my  poor  people,  papa ;  they  are 
so  ignorant  of  the  truths  necessary  to  salvation ;  and 
what  can  I  teach  them  in  three  or  four  weeks  ?  I  have 
almost  decided  that  I  ought — that  I  must  stay  as  many 
months." 

"And  that  without  even  consulting  your  father? 
much  less  considering  his  permission  necessary  to  your 
action  ? "  Though  the  words  seemed  to  convey  re- 
proach, if  not  reproof,  his  tone  was  gentle  and  tender. 

"No,  no,  papa !  I  must  cease  to  think  it  my  duty  if 
you  forbid  it." 

"  As  I  do  most  positively.     /  cannot  stay,  and  I  should 
never  think  for  a  moment  of  leaving  you  here  !  " 
\     "  But,  papa,  how  then   am  I  to  do  my  duty  by  these 
poor  ignorant  creatures  ?  how  can  I  let  them  perish  for 
lack  of  knowledge  whom  Christ  has  put  into  my  care  ?  " 

"Procure  a  chaplain,  who  shall  hold  regular  services 
/or  them  every  Sabbath,  and  do  pastoral  work  among 
them  through  the  week.  You  will  not  grudge  him  his 
salary." 

"  Papa,  what  an  excellent  idea !  Grudge  him  his 
salary  ?  No,  indeed  ;  if  I  can  get  the  right  man  to  fill 
the  place,  he  shall  have  a  liberal  one.  And  then  he  wiU 


£LSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  77 

be  a  check  upon  Mr.  Spriggs,  and  inform  me  if  the  peo- 
ple are  abused.  But  how  shall  I  find  him  ?  " 

"  What  do  you  do  when  in  want  of  something  you  do 
not  know  exactly  how  to  procure  ? " 

"Pray  for  direction  and  help,"  she  answered,  low  and 
reverently. 

"  We  will  both  do  that,  asking  that  the  right  man 
may  be  sent  us ;  and  I  will  write  to-morrow  to  some 
of  the  presidents  of  the  theological  seminaries,  asking 
them  to  recommend  some  one  suited  for  the  place." 

"Papa,"  she  cried,  lifting  a  very  bright  face  to  his, 
"  what  a  load  you  have  taken  from  my  mind." 


CHAPTER  EIGHTH. 

M  A  mighty  pain  to  love  it  is 
And  'tis  a  pain  that  pain  to  miss; 
But  of  all  pains,  the  greatest  pain 
**  is  to  love,  but  love  in  vain." 

— COWLBY. 

ONE  lovely  afternoon  in  the  second  week  of  their  stay 
at  Viamede,  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  his  daughter  were  seated 
in  the  shade  of  the  trees  on  the  lawn,  she  busied  with 
jsome  fancy-work  while  her  father  read  aloud  to  her. 

As  he  paused  to  turn  a  leaf,  "  Papa,"  she  said,  glanc- 
ing off  down  the  bayou,  "  there  is  a  steamer  coming,  the 
same  that  brought  us,  I  think ;  and  see,  it  is  rounding  to 
at  our  landing.  Can  it  be  bringing  us  a  guest?  " 

"  Yes,  a  gentleman  is  stepping  asLoie.  Why,  daugh- 
ter, it  is  Harold  Allison." 

"  Harold  !  oh,  how  delightful !  "  And  rising  they 
hastened  to  meet  and  welcome  him  with  truly  Southern 
warmth  of  hospitality. 

"  Harold  !  how  good  of  you  !  "  cried  Elsie.  "  Mamma 
wrote  us  that  you  were  somewhere  in  this  region,  and  if 
I'd  had  your  address,  I  should  have  sent  you  an  invita- 
tion to  come  and  stay  as  long  as  possible." 

"  And  you  have  done  well  and  kindly  by  us  to  come 
without  waiting  for  that,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  shaking 
78 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  79 

the  hand  of  his  young  brother-in-law  with  a  warmth  of 
cordiality  that  said  more  than  his  words. 

" Many  thanks  to  you  both,"  he  answered  gayly.  "I 
was  conceited  enough  to  feel  sure  of  a  welcome,  and  did 
not  wait,  as  a  more  modest  fellow  might,  to  be  invited. 
But  what  a  lovely  place  !  a  paradise  upon  earth  !  And, 
Elsie,  you,  in  those  dainty  white  robes,  look  the  fit  pre- 
siding genius." 

Elsie  laughed  and  shook  her  head.  "  Don't  turn  flat- 
terer, Harold ;  though  I  do  not  object  to  praise  of  Via- 
mede." 

"I  have  not  heard  from  Rose  in  a  long  time,"  he 
said,  addressing  Mr.  Dinsmore.  "  She  and  the  little 
folks  are  well,  I  hope?  " 

"  I  had  a  letter  this  morning,  and  they  were  all  in 
good  health  when  it  was  written." 

The  servants  had  come  trooping  down  from  the  house, 
and  seizing  Harold's  baggage  had  it  all  ready  in  the 
guest-chamber  to  which  Aunt  Phillis  ordered  it.  Aunt 
Chloe  now  drew  near  to  pay  her  respects  to  "  Massa 
Harold,"  and  tell  him  that  his  room  was  ready. 

"Will  you  go  to  it  at  once?  or  sit  down  here  and 
have  a  little  chat  with  papa  and  me  first  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  Thank  you ;  I  think  I  shall  defer  the  pleasure  of  the 
chat  till  I  have  first  made  myself  presentable  for  the 
evening." 

"Then  let  me  conduct  you  to  your  room,"  said  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  leading  the  way  to  the  house. 

Elsie  had  come  in  the  course  of  years  to  loot  upon 
the  older  brothers  of  her  stepmother  as  in  some  sort  her 
uncles,  but  for  Harold,  who  was  so  much  nearer  her  own 


*o  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

age,  she  entertained  a  sincere  sisterly  regard.  And  he 
was  worthy  of  it  and  of  the  warm  place  his  many  noble 
I  qualities  had  won  for  him  in  Mr.  Dinsmore's  heart. 
i  They  did  all  they  could  to  make  his  visit  to  Viamede  a 
pleasant  one ;  there  were  daily  rides  and  walks,  moon- 
^ight  and  early  morning  excursions  on  the  bayou,  rowing 
^parties;  oftenest  of  the  three  alone,  but  sometimes  in 
company  with  gallant  chivalrous  men  and  refined,  culti- 
vated women  and  charming  young  girls  from  the  neigh- 
boring plantations. 

One  of  these  last,  a  beautiful  brunette,  Elsie  had  se- 
lected in  her  own  mind  for  Harold,  and  she  contrived  to 
throw  them  together  frequently. 

"Don't  you  admire  Miss  Durand?"  she  asked,  after 
they  had  met  several  times.  "  I  think  she  is  lovely;  as 
good,  too,  as  she  is  beautiful ;  and  would  make  you  a 
charming  wife." 

He  flushed  hotly.  "  She  is  very  handsome,  very  fas- 
cinating and  talented,"  he  said  ;  "  but  would  never  suit 
me.  Nor  do  I  suppose  I  could  win  her  if  I  wished." 

"  Indeed  !  if  you  are  so  hard  to  please,  I  fear  there 
will  be  nothing  for  you  but  old  bachelorhood,"  laughed 
Elsie.  "  I  have  picked  her  out  for  you,  and  I  believe 
you  could  win  her  if  you  tried,  Harold ;  but  I  shall  not 
try  to  become  a  match-makei  ' 

"No,  I  must  select  for  myself;  I  couldn't  let  even  you 
choose  for  me." 

"Choose  what?"  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  stepping  out 
upon  the  veranda,  where  Harold  stood  leaning  against  a 
vine-wreathed  pillar,  his  blue  eyes  fixed  with  a  sort  of 
wistful,  longing  look  upon  Elsie's  graceful  figure  and  fair 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  81 

face,  as  she  sat  in  a  half-reclining  posture  on  a  low  couch 
but  a  few  feet  from  him. 

"A  wife,"  he  answered,  compelling  himself  to  speak 
lightly. 

"  Don't  let  her  do  it,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  taking  a 
seat  by  his  daughter's  side ;  "  I've  warned  her  more 
than  once  not  to  meddle  with  match-making."  And  he 
shook  his  head  at  her  with  mock  gravity. 

"I  won't  any  more,  papa;  I'll  leave  him  to  his  own 
devices,  since  he  shows  himself  so  ungrateful  for  my  in- 
terest in  his  welfare,"  Elsie  said,  looking  first  at  her 
father  and  then  at  Harold  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  her 
eye. 

"  I  don't  think  I've  asked  how  you  like  your  nevr 
home  and  prospects,  Harold,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  chang- 
ing the  subject. 

"Very  much,  thank  you ;  except  that  they  take  me  so 
far  from  the  rest  of  the  family." 

A  few  months  before  this  Harold  had  met  with  a  piece 
of  rare  good  fortune,  looked  at  from  a  worldly  point  of 
view,  in  being  adopted  as  his  sole  heir  by  a  rich  and 
childless  Louisiana  planter,  a  distant  relative  of  Mrs. 
Allison. 

"Ah,  that  is  an  objection,"  returned  Mr.  Dinsmore; 
"  but  you  will  be  forming  new  and  closer  ties,  that  will 
doubtless  go  far  to  compensate  for  the  partial  loss  of  the 
old.  I  hope  you  are  enjoying  yourself  here  ? ' ' 

"I  am  indeed,  thank  you."  This  answer  was  true, 
yet  Harold  felt  himself  flush  as  he  spoke,  for  there  was 
one  serious  drawback  upon  his  felicity ;  he  could  seldom 
get  a  word  alone  with  Elsie ;  she  and  her  father  were  so 


&  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

inseparable  that  he  scarcely  saw  the  one  without  the 
other.  And  Harold  strongly  coveted  an  occasional 
monopoly  of  the  sweet  girl's  society.  He  had  come  to 
Viamede  with  a  purpose  entirely  unsuspected  by  her  or 
her  apparently  vigilant  guardian. 

He  should  perhaps,  have  confided  his  secret  to  Mr. 
Dinsmore  first,  but  his  heart  failed  him;  and  "what 
would  be  the  use?"  he  asked  himself,  "if  Elsie  is  not 
willing  ?  Ah,  if  I  could  but  be  alone  with  her  for  an 
hour !  " 

The  coveted  opportunity  offered  itself  at  last,  quite  un- 
expectedly. Coming  out  upon  the  veranda  one  after- 
noon, he  saw  Elsie  sitting  alone  under  a  tree  far  down  on 
the  lawn.  He  hastened  towards  her. 

"I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  she  said,  looking  up  with  a 
smile  and  making  room  for  him  on  the  seat  by  her  side. 
"  You  see  I  am  '  lone  and  lorn,'  Mr.  Durand  having  car- 
ried off  papa  to  look  at  some  new  improvement  in  his 
sugar-house  machinery." 

"  Ah  !  and  when  will  your  father  return?  " 

"In  about  an  hour,  I  presume.  Shall  you  attend 
Aunt  Adie's  wedding  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  Don't  you  sometimes  feel  as  if 
you'd  like  to  stay  here  altogether?  " 

"  Yes,  and  no ;  it's  very  lovely,  and  the  more  charm- 
ing I  believe,  because  it  is  my  own ;  but — there  is  so 
much  more  to  bind  me  to  the  Oaks,  and  I  could  never 
live  far  away  from  papa." 

"  Couldn't  you  ?  I  hoped Oh,  Elsie,  couldn't  you 

possibly  love  some  one  else  better  even  than  you  love 
him  ?  You're  more  to  me  than  father,  mother,  and  all  the 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  83 

world  beside.  I  have  wanted  to  tell  you  so  for  years, 
but  while  I  was  comparatively  poor  your  fortune  sealed 
my  lips.  Now  I  am  rich,  and  I  lay  all  I  have  at  your 
feet;  myself  included;  and " 

"  Oh,  Harold,  hush  !  "  she  cried  in  trembling  tones,' 
flushing  and  paling  by  turns,  and  putting  up  her  hand  as 
if  to  stop  the  torrent  of  words  he  was  pouring  forth  so 
unexpectedly  that  astonishment  had  struck  her  dumb  for 
an  instant;  "oh  !  don't  say  any  more,  I — I  thought  you 
surely  knew  that — that  I  am  already  engaged." 

"  No.  To  whom  ?  "  he  asked  hoarsely,  his  face  pale 
as  death,  and  lips  quivering  so  that  he  could  scarcely 
speak. 

"  To  Mr.  Travilla.  It  has  been  only  for  a  few  weeks, 
though  we  have  loved  each  other  for  years.  Oh,  Harold, 
Harold,  do  not  look  so  wretched  !  you  break  my  heart, 
for  I  love  you  as  a  very  dear  brother." 

He  turned  away  with  a  groan,  and  without  another 
word  hastened  back  to  the  house,  while  Elsie,  covering 
her  face  with  her  hands,  shed  some  very  bitter  tears. 

Heart-broken,  stunned,  feeling  as  if  every  good  thing 
in  life  had  suddenly  slipped  from  his  grasp,  Harold 
sought  his  room,  mechanically  gathered  up  his  few  effects, 
packed  them  into  his  valise,  then  sat  down  by  the  open 
window  and  leant  his  head  upon  his  hand. 

He  couldn't  think,  he  could  only  feel  that  all  was  lost, 
and  that  he  must  go  away  at  once,  if  he  would  not  have 
everybody  know  it,  and  make  the  idol  of  his  heart  mis- 
erable with  the  sight  of  his  wretchedness. 

Why  had  he  not  known  of  her  engagement  ?  Why 
had  no  one  told  him  ?  Why  had  he  been  such  a  fool  as 


84  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

co  suppose  he  could  win  so  great  a  prize  ?  He  was  not 
worthy  of  her.  How  plainly  he  saw  it  now,  how  sorely 
repented  of  the  conceit  that  had  led  him  on  to  *.he 
avowal  jf  his  passion. 

He  had  a  vague  recollection  that  a  boat  was  to  pass 
that  afternoon.  He  would  take  passage  in  that,  and  he 
hoped  Mr.  Dinsmore's  return  might  be  delayed  till  he 
was  gone.  He  would  away  without  another  word  to 
Elsie ;  she  should  not  be  disturbed  by  any  further  un- 
manly manifestation  of  his  bitter  grief  and  despair. 

The  hour  of  the  passing  of  the  boat  drew  near,  and 
valise  in  hand,  he  left  his  room  and  passed  down  the 
stairs.  But  Elsie  was  coming  in  from  the  lawn,  and  they 
met  in  the  lower  hall. 

"Harold,"  she  cried,  "you  are  not  going?  You 
must  not  leave  us  so  suddenly." 

"  I  must,"  he  said  in  icy  tones,  the  stony  eyes  gazing 
into  vacancy;  "  all  places  are  alike  to  me  now,  and  I  can- 
not stay  here  to  trouble  you  and  Horace  with  the  sight 
of  a  wretchedness  I  cannot  hide." 

Trembling  so  that  she  could  scarcely  stand,  Elsie 
kaned  against  the  wall  for  support,  the  hot  tears  coursing 
down  her  cheeks.  "  Oh,  Harold  !  "  she  sobbed,  "  what 
an  unhappy  creature  I  am  to  have  been  the  cause  of 
such  sorrow  to  you !  Oh  why  should  you  ever  have 
thought  of  me  so  ?  " 

Dropping  his  valise,  his  whole  manner  changing,  he 
turned  to  her  with  passionate  vehemence.  "  Because  I 
couldn't  help  it !  Even  as  a  boy  I  gave  up  my  whole 
heart  to  you,  and  I  cannot  call  it  back.  Oh,  Elsie,  why 
did  I  ever  see  you  ?  "  and  he  seized  both  her  hands  in  a 


•  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  85 

grasp  that  almost  forced  a  cry  of  pain  from  her  white, 
quivering  lips.  "  Life  is  worthless  without  you.  I'd 
rather  die  knowing  that  you  loved  me  than  live  to  see 
you  in  the  possession  of  another." 

"Harold,  Harold,  a  sister's  love  I  can,  I  do  give  you  j 
and  can  you  not  be  content  with  that  ?  " 

"A  sister's  love  !  "  he  repeated  scornfully.  "  Offer  a 
cup  with  a  drop  of  water  in  it,  to  a  man  perishing,  dying 
with  thirst.  Yes,  I'm  going  away,  I  care  not  whither  ; 
all  places  are  alike  to  him  who  has  lost  all  interest  in  life." 

He  threw  her  hands  from  him  almost  witii  violence, 
half  turned  away,  then  suddenly  catching  her  in  his 
arms,  held  her  close  to  his  heart,  kissing  passionately, 
forehead,  cheek,  and  lips.  "  Oh,  Elsie,  Elsie,  light  of 
my  eyes,  core  of  my  heart,  why  did  we  ever  meet  to  part 
like  this?  I  don't  blame  you.  I  have  been  a  fool. 
Good-bye,  darling."  And  releasing  her,  he  was  gone 
ere  she  could  recover  breath  to  speak.  It  had  all  been 
so  sudden  she  had  had  no  power,  perhaps  no  will,  to 
resist,  so  sore  was  the  tender,  loving  heart  for  him. 

He  was  barely  in  time  to  hail  the  boat  as  it  passed, 
and  at  the  instant  he  was  about  to  step  aboard,  Mr. 
Dinsmore  rode  up,  and  springing  from  the  saddle,  throw- 
ing the  reins  to  his  servant,  cried  out  in  astonishment, 
"Harold  !  you  are  not  leaving  us?  Come,  come,  what 
has  happened  to  hurry  you  away  ?  Must  you  go  ?  " 

"Yes,  I  must,"  he  answered  with  half-averted  face. 
"  Don't  call  me  a  scoundrel  for  making  such  a  return  for 
your  hospitality.  I  couldn't  help  it.  Good-bye.  Try 
to  forget  that  I've  been  here  at  all ;  for  Rose's  sake,  you 
know." 


86  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

He  sprang  into  the  boat ;  it  pushed  off,  and  was  pres« 
ently  lost  to  sight  among  the  trees  shading  the  bayou  on 
either  hand. 

Mr.  Dinsraore  stood  for  a  moment  as  if  spellbound  ; 
then  turned  and  walked  thoughtfully  towards  the  house. 
"What  did  it  all  mean?  "  he  asked  himself;  "of  what 
unkind  return  of  his  or  Elsie's  hospitality  could  the  lad 
have  been  guilty?  Elsie  !  ha !  can  it  be  possible?"  and 
quickened  his  pace,  glancing  from  side  to  side  in  search 
of  her  as  he  hurried  on. 

Entering  the  hall,  the  sound  of  a  half-smothered  sob 
guided  him  to  a  little  parlor  or  reception-room  seldom 
used.  Softly  he  opened  the  door.  She  was  there  half- 
reclining  upon  a  sofa,  her  face  buried  in  the  cushions. 
In  a  moment  he  had  her  in  his  arms,  the  weary,  aching 
head  on  his  breast,  while  he  tenderly  wiped  away  the 
fast -falling  tears. 

"  My  poor  darling,  my  poor  little  pet,  don't  take  it  so 
to  heart.  It  is  nothing ;  he  will  probably  get  over  it 
before  he  is  a  month  older." 

"  Papa,  is  it  my  fault  ?  did  I  give  him  undue  encour- 
agement ?  am  I  a  coquette  ?  "  she  sobbed. 

"Far  from  it !  did  he  dare  to  call  you  that? " 

"No,  no,  oh,  no;  he  said  he  did  not  blame  me;  it 
was  all  his  own  folly." 

"  Ah  !  I  think  the  better  of  him  for  that ;  though  'twas 
no  more  than  just." 

"I  thought  he  knew  of  my  engagement." 

"  So  did  I.  And  the  absurdity  of  the  thing  !  Such  a 
mixture  of  relationships  as  it  would  have  been  !  I  should 
Clever  have  entertained  the  thought  for  a  moment.  And 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  8? 

he  ought  to  have  spoken  to  me  first,  and  spared  you  all 
this.  No,  you  needn't  fret ;  he  deserves  all  he  suffers, 
for  what  he  has  inflicted  upon  you,  my  precious  one." 

"I  hardly  think  that,  papa;  he  was  very  generous  to 
take  all  the  blame  to  himself;  but  oh,  you  have  eased 
my  heart  of  half  its  load.  What  should  I  ever  do  with- 
out you,  my  own  dear,  dear  father  !  " 

The  pleasure  of  our  friends,  during  the  rest  of  their 
stay  at  Viamede,  was  somewhat  dampened  by  this  un- 
fortunate episode,  though  Elsie,  for  her  father's  sake,  did 
her  best  to  rally  from  its,  effect  on  her  spirits,  and  to  be 
cheerful  and  gay  as  before. 

Long,  bright,  loving  letters  from  home,  and  Ion  coming 
the  next  day,  were  a  great  help.  Then  the  next  day 
brought  a  chaplain,  who  seemed  in  all  respects  so  well 
suited  to  his  place  as  to  entirely  relieve  her  mind  in  re- 
gard to  the  future  welfare  of  her  people.  He  entered 
into  all  her  plans  for  them,  and  promised  to  carry  them 
out  to  the  best  of  his  ability. 

So  it  was  with  a  light  heart,  though  not  without  some 
lingering  regrets  for  the  sad  ones  and  the  loveliness  left 
behind,  that  she  and  her  father  set  out  on  their  home- 
ward way. 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  man  John,  Aunt  Chloe,  and  Uncle 
Joe,  went  with  them ;  and  it  was  a  continual  feast  for 
master  and  mistress  to  see  the  happiness  of  the  poor  old 
couple,  especially  when  their  grandchild  Dinah,  their 
only  living  descendant  so  far  as  they  could  learn,  was 
added  to  the  party ;  Elsie  purchasing  her,  according  to 
promise,  as  they  passed  through  New  Orleans  on  their 
return  trip. 


88  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Dinah  was  very  grateful  to  find  herself  installed  as 
assistant  to  her  grandmother,  who,  Elsie  said,  must  be- 
gin to  take  life  more  easily  now  in  her  old  age.  Yet  that 
Aunt  Chloe  found  it  hard  to  do,  for  she  was  very  jealous 
of  having  any  hands  but  her  own  busied  about  the  person 
of  her  idolized  young  mistress. 

A  glad  welcome  awaited  them  at  home,  where  they  ar- 
rived in  due  season  for  Adelaide's  wedding. 

Sophie  and  Harry  Carrington  had  returned  from  their 
wedding  trip,  and  were  making  their  home  with  his  par- 
ents, at  Ashlands;  Richard,  Fred,  and  May  Allison, 
came  with  their  brother  Edward ;  but  Harold,  who  was 
to  meet  them  at  Roselands,  was  not  there.  He  had  en- 
gaged to  act  as  second  groomsman,  Richard  being  first, 
and  there  was  much  wondering  over  his  absence ;  many 
regrets  were  expressed,  and  some  anxiety  was  felt. 

But  Elsk  &iid  her  father  kept  their  own  counsel,  and 
breathed  no  word  of  the  episode  at  Viamede,  which 
would  have  explained  all. 

Harold's  coming  was  still  hoped  for  by  the  others  until 
the  last  moment,  when  Fred  took  his  place,  and  the  cere- 
mony passed  off  as  satisfactorily  as  if  there  had  been  no 
failure  on  the  part  of  any  expected,  to  participate  in  it. 

It  took  place  in  the  drawing-room  at  Roselands,  in 
presence  of  a  crowd  of  aristocratic  guests,  and  was  con- 
sidered a  very  grand  affair.  A  round  of  parties  followed 
for  the  next  two  weeks,  and  then  the  happy  pair  set  sail 
for  Europe. 


CHAPTER  NINTH. 

•*  My  plots  fall  short,  like  darts  which  rash  hands  throw 
With  an  ill  aim,  and  have  too  far  to  go." 

—SIR  ROBERT  HOWARD. 

"I'M  so  glad  it's  all  over  at  last !  " 

"  What,  my  little  friend  ?  "  and  Mr.  Travilla  looked 
fondly  into  the  sweet  face  so  bright  and  happy,  where 
the  beauties  of  rare  intellect  and  moral  worth  were  as 
conspicuous  as  the  lesser  ones  of  exquisite  contour  and 
coloring. 

"The  wedding  and  all  the  accompanying  round  of 
dissipation.  Now  I  hope  we  can  settle  down  to  quiet 
home  pleasures  for  the  rest  of  the  winter." 

"So  do  I,  and  that  LI  shall  see  twice  as  much  of  you 
as  I  have  of  late.  You  can  have  no  idea  how  I  missed 
you  while  you  were  absent.  And  I  am  more  than  half 
envious  of  our  bride  and  groom.  Shall  our  trip  be  to 
Europe,  Elsie?" 

"Are  we  to  take  a  trip?"  she  asked  with  an  arch 
smile. 

"That  will  be  as  you  wish,  dearest,  of  course." 

"I  don't  wish  it  now,  nor  do  you,  I  know;  but  we 
shall  have  time  enough  to  settle  all  such  questions." 

"Plenty;  I  only  wish  we  had  not  so  much.     Yet  I 
don't  mean  to  grumble ;  the  months  will  soon  slip  away 
and  bring  the  time  when  I  may  claim  my  prize." 
89 


90  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

They  were  riding  towards  the  Oaks  ;  the  sun  had  just 
set,  and  the  moon  was  still  below  the  horizon. 

Elsie  suddenly  reined  in  her  horse,  Mr.  Travilla  in- 
stantly doing  likewise,  and  turned  a  pale,  agitated  face 
upon  him.  "Did  you  hear  that?"  she  asked  low  and 
tremulously. 

"  What,  dear  child  ?  I  heard  nothing  but  the  sound 
of  our  horses'  hoofs,  the  sighing  of  the  wind  in  the  tree- 
tops,  and  our  own  voices." 

"  I  heard  another;  a  muttered  oath  and  the  words, 
« You  shall  never  win  her.  I'll  see  to  that.'  The  tones 
were  not  loud  but  deep,  and  the  wind  seemed  to  carry 
the  sounds  directly  to  my  ear,"  she  whispered,  laying  a 
trembling  little  hand  on  his  arm,  and  glancing  nervously 
from  side  to  side. 

"A  trick  of  the  imagination,  I  think,  dearest;  but 
from  whence  did  the  sounds  seem  to  come?  " 

"  From  yonder  thicket  of  evergreens  and — I  knew  the 
voice  for  that  of  your  deadly  foe,  the  man  from  whom 
you  and  papa  rescued  me  in  Landsdale." 

"My  child,  he  is  expiating  his  crime  in  a  Pennsyl- 
vania penitentiary." 

"But  may  he  not  have  escaped,  or  have  been  pardoned 
out?  Don't,  oh  don't,  I  entreat  you  !  "  she  cried,  as  he 
turned  his  horse's  head  in  the  direction  of  the  thicket. 
"You  will  be  killed." 

"I  am  armed,  and  a  dead  shot,"  he  answered,  taking 
a  revolver  from  his  breast  pocket. 

"  But  he  is  in  ambush,  and  can  shoot  you  down  be- 
fore you  can  see  to  aim  at  him." 

"  You  are  right,  if  there  is  really  an  enemy  concealed 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  91 

there,"  he  answered,  returning  the  revolver  to  its  former 
resting-place;  "but  I  feel  confident  that  it  was  either 
a  trick  of  the  imagination  with  you,  or  that  some  one 
is  playing  a  practical  joke  upon  us.  So  set  your  fears  at 
rest,  dear  child,  and  let  us  hasten  on  our  way." 

Elsie  yielded  to  his  better  judgment,  trying  to  be- 
lieve it  nothing  worse  than  a  practical  joke ;  but  had 
much  ado  to  quiet  her  agitated  nerves  and  recover  her 
composure  before  a  brisk  canter  brought  them  to  the 
Oaks,  and  she  must  meet  her  father's  keen  eye. 

They  found  Arthur  in  the  drawing-room,  chatting  with 
Rose.  He  rose  with  a  bland,  "Good-evening,"  and 
gallantly  handed  Elsie  to  a  seat.  Arthur  was  a  good  deal 
changed  since  his  recall  from  college  ;  and  in  nothing 
more  than  in  his  manner  to  Elsie ;  he  was  now  always 
polite ;  often  cordial  even  when  alone  with  her.  He  was 
not  thoroughly  reformed,  but  had  ceased  to  gamble  and 
seldom  drank  to  intoxication. 

"  Thank  you  ;  but  indeed  I  must  go  at  once  and  dress 
for  tea,"  Elsie  said,  consulting  her  watch.  "You  are 
not  going  yet?" 

"  No,  he  will  stay  to  tea,"  said  Rose. 

"But  must  go  soon  after,  as  I  have  an  engagement,'* 
added  Arthur. 

Elsie  met  her  father  in  the  hall.  "  Ah,  you  are  at  home 
again,"  he  remarked  with  a  pleased  look ;  "that  is  well; 
I  was  beginning  to  think  you  were  making  it  very  late." 

"But  you  are  not  uneasy  when  I  am  in  such  good 
hands,  papa  ?  ' ' 

"  No,  not  exactly ;  but  like  better  to  take  care  of  you 
myself." 


92  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

The"  clock  was  just  striking  eight  as  Arthur  mounted 
and  rode  away  from  his  brother's  door.  It  was  not  a 
dark  night,  or  yet  very  light ;  for  though  the  moon  had 
risen,  dark  clouds  were  scudding  across  the  sky,  allowing 
'  but  an  occasional  glimpse  of  her  face,  and  casting  deej 
shadows  over  the  landscape. 

i  In  the  partial  obscurity  of  one  of  these,  and  only  $ 
;few  rods  ahead  of  him,  when  about  half-way  between  the 
Oaks  and  Roselands,  Arthur  thought  he  discovered  th* 
'figure  of  a  man  standing  by  the  roadside,  apparent!} 
waiting  to  halt  him  as  he  passed. 

"  Ha !  you'll  not  take  me  by  surprise,  my  fine  fel 
low,  whoever  you  may  be,"  muttered  Arthur  between 
his  set  teeth,  drawing  out  a  revolver  and  cocking  it, 
"  Halloo  there  !  Who  are  you ;  and  what  d'ye  want  ?  " 
he  called,  as  his  horse  brought  him  nearly  opposite  th< 
suspicious  looking  object. 

"Your  money  or  your  life,  Dinsmore,"  returned  the 
other  with  a  coarse  laugh.  "  Don't  pretend  not  to  kno\v 
me,  old  chap." 

"You!"  exclaimed  Arthur,  with  an  oath,  but  hall 
under  his  breath.  "I  thought  you  were  safe  in " 

"State  prison,  eh?  Well,  so  I  was,  but  they've  par- 
doned me  out.  I  was  a  reformed  character,  you  see; 
and  then  my  vote  was  wanted  at  the  last  election,  ha ! 
ha  !  And  so  I've  come  down  to  see  how  my  old  friends 
are  getting  along." 

"  Friends  !  don't  count  me  among  them  !  "  returned 
Arthur,  hastily;  "jail-birds  are  no  mates  for  me." 

"No,  I  understand  that,  the  disgrace  is  in  being 
caught.  But  you'd  as  well  keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  93 

head;  for  if  you're  covering  me  with  a  revolver,  I'm 
doing  the  same  by  you." 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  you,  Tom,"  answered  Arthur, 
with  a  scornful  laugh,  "but  I'm  in  a  hurry;  so  be  good 
enough  to  move  out  of  the  way  and  let  me  pass."  For 
the  other  had  now  planted  himself  in  the  middle  of  the 
road,  and  laid  a  heavy  hand  upon,  the  horse's  bridle- 
rein. 

"When  I've  said  my  say;  no  sooner.  So  that  pretty 
niece  of  yours,  my  former  fiancee,  is  engaged  to  Tra- 
villa?  the  man  whom,  of  all  others,  I  hate  with  a  hatred 
bitterer  than  death.  I  would  set  my  heel  upon  his 
head  and  grind  it  into  the  earth  as  I  would  the  head  of  a 
venomous  reptile." 

"  Who  told  you  ?" 

"  I  overheard  some  o'  their  sweet  talk  as  they  rode  by 
here  not  two  hours  ago.  He  robbed  me  of  her  that  he 
might  snatch  the  prize  himself;  I  saw  his  game  at  the 
time.  But  he  shall  never  get  her,"  he  concluded,  grind- 
ing his  teeth  with  rage. 

"  Pray,  how  do  you  propose  to  prevent  it?" 

"I'll  call  him  out." 

Arthur's  laugh  rang  out  mockingly  upon  the  still  night 
air.  "  Southern  gentlemen  accept  a  challenge  only  from 
gentlemen;  and  as  for  Travilla,  besides  being  a  dead 
shot,  he's  too  pious  to  fight  a  duel,  even  with  his  own 
class." 

"He'll  meet  me  in  fair  fight,  or  I'll  shoot  him  down, 
like  a  dog,  in  his  tracks."  The  words,  spoken  in  low 
tone,  of  concentrated  fury,  were  accompanied  with  a 
volley  of  horrible  oaths. 


94  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"You'd  better  not  try  it !  "  said  Arthur;  "you'd  be 
lynched  and  hung  on  the  nearest  tree  within  an  hour." 

"They'd  have  to  catch  me  first." 

"And  they  would,  they'd  set  their  bloodhounds  on 
your  track,  and  there' d  be  no  escape.  As  to  the  lady 
having  been  your  fiancee — she  never  was ;  she  would  not 
engage  herself  without  my  brother's  consent,  which  you 
were  not  able  to  obtain.  And  now  you'd  better  take 
yourself  off  out  of  this  neighborhood,  after  such  threats 
as  you've  made  !  " 

"That  means  you  intend  to  turn  informer,  eh?" 

"  It  means  nothing  of  the  k>nd,  unless  I'm  called  up 
as  a  witness  in  court;  but  you  can't  prowl  about  here 
long  without  being  seen  and  arrested  as  a  suspicious 
character,  an  abolitionist,  or  some  other  sort  of  scoun- 
drel— which  last  you  know  you  are,"  Arthur  could  not 
help  adding  in  a  parenthesis.  "  So  take  my  advice,  and 
retreat  while  you  can.  Now  out  o'  the  way,  if  you  please, 
and  let  me  pass." 

Jackson  sullenly  stood  aside,  letting  go  the  rein,  and 
Arthur  galloped  off. 

In  the  meantime,  the  older  members  of  the  family  at 
the  Oaks  were  quietly  enjoying  themselves  in  the  library, 
where  bright  lights,  and  a  cheerful  wood-fire  snapping 
and  crackling  on  the  hearth,  added  to  the  sense  of  com- 
fort imparted  by  handsome  furniture,  books,  paintings*, 
statuary,  rich  carpet,  soft  couches,  and  easy  chairs. 

The  children  had  been  sent  to  bed.  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Dinsmore  sat  by  the  centre  table,  the  one  busy  with  the 
evening  paper,  the  other  sewing,  but  now  and  then  cast- 
ing a  furtive  glance  at  a  distant  sofa,  where  AJ>.  Travilla 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  95 

and  Elsie  were  seated  side  by  side,  conversing  in  an 
undertone. 

"  This  is  comfort,  having  you  to  myself  again,"  he 
was  saying,  as  he  watched  admiringly  the  delicate  fingers 
busied  with  a  crochet  needle,  forming  bright  meshes  of 
scarlet  zephyr.  "  How  I  missed  you  when  you  were 
gone !  and  yet,  do  you  know,  I  cannot  altogether  regret 
the  short  separation,  since  otherwise  I  should  have  missed 
my  precious  budget  of  letters." 

"  Ah,"  she  said,  lifting  her  merry  brown  eyes  to  his 
face  for  an  instant,  then  dropping  them  again,  with  a 
charming  smile  and  blush,  "  do  you  think  that  an  origi- 
nal idea,  or  rather  that  it  is  original  only  with  yourself?  " 

"And  you  are  glad  to  have  mine?  though  not  nearly 
so  sweet  and  fresh  as  yours."  How  glad  he  looked  as 
he  spoke. 

"Ah  !  "  she  answered  archly,  "I'll  not  tell  you  what 
I  have  done  with  them,  lest  you  grow  conceited.  But  I 
have  a  confession  to  make,"  and  she  laughed  lightly. 
"  Will  you  absolve  me  beforehand  ?  " 

"Yes,  if  you  are  penitent,  and  promise  to  offend  no 
more.  What  is  it?" 

"I  see  I  have  aroused  your  curiosity,  I  shall  not  keep 
you  in  suspense.  I  am  corresponding  with  a  young 
gentleman.  Here  is  a  letter  from  him,  received  to- 
day ;  "  drawing  it  from  her  pocket  as  she  spoke,  she  put 
it  into  his  hand. 

"  I  have  no  wish  to  examine  it,"  he  said  gravely,  lay- 
ing it  on  her  lap.  "  I  can  trust  you  fully,  Elsie." 

"But  I  should  like  you  to  read  it;  'tis  from  Mr.  Ma- 
son, my  chaplain  at  Viamede,  and  gives  a  lengthy,  and 


96  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

very  interesting  account  of  the  Christmas  doings 
there." 

"  Which  I  should  much  prefer  to  hear  from  your  lips, 
ray  little  friend." 

"Ah,  read  it,  please;  read  it  aloud  to  me;  I  shall 
then  enjoy  it  as  much  as  I  did  the  first  time;  and  you 
'  will  learn  how  truly  good  and  pious  Mr.  Mason  is,  far 
better  than  from  my  telling.  Not  that  he  talks  of  him- 
self, but  you  perceive  it  from  what  he  says  of  others." 

He  complied  with  her  request,  reading  in  the  under- 
tone in  which  they  had  been  talking. 

"A  very  well  written  and  interesting  letter,"  he  re- 
marked, as  he  refolded  and  returned  it.  "  Yes,  I  should 
judge  from  it  that  he  is  the  right  man  in  the  right  place. 
I  presume  the  selection  of  gifts  so  satisfactory  to  aH. 
parties  must  have  been  yours?  " 

"  Yes,  sir ;  being  with  them,  I  was  able  to  ascertain 
their  wants  and  wishes,  by  questioning  one  in  regard  to 
another.  Then  I  made  out  the  list,  and  left  Mr.  Mason 
to  do  the  purchasing  for  me.  I  think  I  can  trust  him 
again,  and  it  is  a  great  relief  to  my  mind  to  have  some  one 
there  to  attend  to  the  welfare  of  their  souls  and  bodies." 

"Have  you  gotten  over  your  fright  of  this  evening?" 
he  inquired  tenderly,  bending  towards  her,  and  speaking 
lower  than  before. 

"  Almost  if — if  you  have  not  to  return  to  Ion  to-night. 
Must  you,  really?" 

"  Yes ;  mother  would  be  alarmed  by  my  absence ;  and 
she  seldom  retires  till  I  am  there  to  bid  her  good -night." 

"  Then  promise  nae  to  avoid  that  thicket,"  she  pleaded 
anxiously. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  97 

"I  cannot  think  there  is  any  real  danger,"  he  said, 
vith  a  reassuring  smile,  "  but  I  shall  take  the  other  road  j 
'tis  but  a  mile  further  round,  and  it  would  pay  me  to 
travel  fifty  to  spare  you  a  moment's  anxiety,  dearest." 

She  looked  her  thanks. 

He  left  at  ten,  his  usual  hour,  bidding  her  have  no 
fear  for  him,  since  no  real  evil  can  befall  those  who  put 
their  trust  in  Him  whose  watchful,  protecting  care  is 
ever  about  His  chosen  ones, 

"  Yes,"  she  whispered,  as  for  a  moment  his  arm  en- 
circled her  waist,  "  'What  time  I  am  afraid,  I  will  trust 
in  Thee.'  It  is  comparatively  easy  to  trust  for  myself, 
and  God  will  help  me  to  do  it  for  you  also." 

She  stood  at  the  window  watching  his  departure,  her 
heart  going  up  in  silent  prayer  for  his  safety.  Then, 
saying  to  herself,  "Papa  must  not  be  disturbed  with  my 
idle  fancies,"  she  turned  to  receive  his  good-night  with  a 
face  so  serene  and  unclouded,  a  manner  so  calm  and 
peaceful,  that  he  had  no  suspicion  of  anything  amiss. 

Nor  was  it  an  assumed  peace  and  calmness ;  for  she 
had  not  now  to  learn  to  cast  her  care  on  the  Lord,  whom 
she  had  loved  and  served  from  her  very  infancy ;  and 
her  head  had  not  rested  many  moments  upon  her  pillow,, 
ere  she  fell  into  a  deep,  sweet  sleep,  that  lasted  until 
morning. 

While  Elsie  slept,  and  Mr.  Travilla  galloped  home- 
ward by  the  longer  route,  the  moon,  peering  through  the 
cloud  curtains,  looked  down  upon  a  dark  figure,  stand- 
ing behind  a  tree  not  many  yards  distant  from  the  thicket 
Elsie  had  besought  her  friend  to  shun.  The  man  held  a 
revolver  in  his  hand,  ready  cocked  for  instant  use.  His 


$8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

attitude  was  that  of  one  listening  intently  for  some  ex« 
pected  sound. 

He  had  stood  thus  for  hours,  and  was  growing  very 
weary.  ''Curse  the  wretch!"  he  muttered,  "does  he 
court  all  night?  How  many  hours  have  I  been  here 
waiting  for  my  chance  for  a  shot  at  him  ?  It's  getting  to 
be  no  joke,  hungry,  cold,  tired  enough  to  lie  down  here 
on  the  ground.  But  I'll  stick  it  out,  and  shoot  him 
down  like  a  dog.  He  thinks  to  enjoy  the  prize  he 
snatched  from  me,  but  he'll  find  himself  mistaken,  or 

my  name's  n "  The  sentence  ended  with  a  fierce 

grinding  of  the  teeth.  Hark  !  was  that  the  distant  tread 
of  a  horse?  He  bent  his  ear  to  the  earth,  and  almost 
held  his  breath  to  listen.  Yes,  faint  but  unmistakable ; 
the  sounds  filled  him  with  a  fiendish  joy.  For  years  he 
had  nursed  his  hatred  of  Travilla,  whom  he  blamed  al- 
most exclusively  for  his  failure  to  get  possession  of  Elsie's 
fortune. 

He  sprang  up  and  again  placed  himself  in  position  to 
fire.  But  what  had  become  of  the  welcome  sounds? 
Alas  for  his  hoped-for  revenge ;  they  had  died  away  en- 
tirely. The  horse  and  his  rider  must  have  taken  some 
other  road.  More  low-breathed,  bitter  curses :  yet  per- 
'chance  it  was  not  the  man  for  whose  life  he  thirsted.  He 
i  would  wait  and  hope  on. 

But  the  night  waned  :  one  after  another  the  moon  and 
stars  set  and  day  began  to  break  in  the  east ;  the  birds 
waking  in  their  nests  overhead  grew  clamorous  with  joy, 
yet  their  notes  seemed  to  contain  a  warning  tone  for  him, 
bidding  him  begone  ere  the  coming  of  the  light  hated  by 
those  whose  deeds  are  evil.  Chilled  by  the  frosty  air, 


£LSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  99 

and  stiff  and  sore  from  long  standing  in  a  constrained 
position,  he  limped  away,  and  disappeared  in  the  deepei 
shadows  of  the  woods. 

Arthur's  words  of  warning  had  taken  their  desired  ef. 
feet ;  and  cowardly,  as  base,  wicked,  and  cruel,  the  man 
made  haste  to  flee  from  the  scene  of  his  intended  crime, 
imagining  at  times  that  he  even  heard  the  bloodhoMnd^ 
already  on  his  track. 


CHAPTER  TENTH. 

•*At  last  I  know  thee — and  my  soul, 

From  all  thy  arts  set  free, 
Abjures  the  cold  consummate  art 
Shrin'd  as  a  soul  in  thee." 

—SARA  J.  CLARK. 

THE  rest  of  the  winter  passed  quietly  and  happily  with 
our  friends  at  Ion  and  the  Oaks,  Mr.  Travilla  spending 
nearly  half  his  time  at  the  latter  place,  and  in  rides  and 
walks  with  Elsie,  whom  he  now  and  then  coaxed  to  Ion 
for  a  call  upon  his  mother. 

Their  courtship  was  serene  and  peaceful :  disturbed  by 
no  feverish  heat  of  passion,  no  doubts  and  fears,  no 
lovers'  quarrels,  but  full  of  a  deep,  intense  happiness, 
the  fruit  of  their  long  and  intimate  friendship,  their  full 
acquaintance  with,  and  perfect  confidence  in  each  other, 
and  their  strong  love.  Enna  sneeringly  observed  that 
"they  were  more  like  some  staid  old  married  couple 
than  a  pair  of  lovers." 

Arthur  made  no  confidant  in  regard  to  his  late  inter' 
view  with  Jackson ;  nothing  more  was  heard  or  seen  of 
the  scoundrel,  and  gradually  Elsie  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  Mr.  Travilla,  who  occasionally  rallied  her  good- 
naturedly  on  the  subject  of  her  fright,  had  been  correct 
in  his  judgment  that  it  was  either  the  work  of  imagina- 
tion or  of  some  practical  joker. 

100 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  IOI 

Arthur,  on  his  part,  thought  that  fear  of  the  terrors  he 
had  held  up  before  him  would  cause  Jackson — whom  he 
knew  to  be  an  arrant  coward — to  refrain  from  adventur- 
.ing  himself  again  in  the  neighborhood. 

But  he  miscalculated  the  depth  of  the  man's  animosity 
towards  Mr.  Travilla,  which  so  exceeded  his  cowardice 
ias  at  length  to  induce  him  to  return  and  make  another 
effort  to  destroy  either  the  life  of  that  gentleman  or  his 
hopes  of  happiness ;  perhaps  both. 

Elsie  was  very  fond  of  the  society  of  her  dear  ones,  yet 
occasionally  found  much  enjoyment  in  being  alone,  for  a 
Short  season,  with  Nature  or  a  book.  A  very  happy  little 
woman,  as  she  had  every  reason  to  be,  and  full  of  grati- 
tude and  love  to  the  Giver  of  all  good  for  His  unnum- 
bered blessings,  she  loved  now  and  then  to  have  a  quiet 
hour  in  which  to  count  them  over,  as  a  miser  does  his 
gold,  to  return  her  heartfelt  thanks,  tell  her  best,  her 
dearest  Friend  of  all,  how  happy  she  was,  and  seek  help 
from  Him  to  make  a  right  use  of  each  talent  committed 
to  her  care. 

j  Seated  in  her  favorite  arbor  one  lovely  spring  day, 
.with  thoughts  thus  employed,  and  eyes  gazing  dreamily 
upon  the  beautiful  landscape  spread  out  at  her  feet,  she 
was  startled  from  her  reverie  by  some  one  suddenly  step- 
Iping  in  and  boldly  taking  a  seat  by  her  side. 

She  turned  her  head.  Could  it  be  possible  ?  Yes,  it 
[was  indeed  Tom  Jackson,  handsomely  dressed  and  look- 
ing, to  a  casual  observer,  the  gentleman  she  had  once 
believed  him  to  be.  She  recognized  him  instantly. 

A  burning  blush  suffused  her  face,  dyeing  even  the 
fair  neck  and  arms.  She  spoke  not  a  word,  but  rose 


102  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

up  hastily  with  the  intent  to  fly  from  his  hateful  pres- 
ence. 

"Now  don't,  my  darling,  don't  run  away  from  me," 
he  said,  intercepting  her.  "I'm  sure  you  couldn't  have 
the  heart,  if  you  knew  how  I  have  lived  for  years  upon 
the  hope  of  such  a  meeting :  for  my  love  for  you,  dearest 
Elsie,  has  never  lessened,  the  ardor  of  my  passion  has 
never  cooled " 

"Enough,  sir,"  she  said,  drawing  herself  up,  her  eyes 
kindling  and  flashing  as  he  had  never  thought  they  could ; 
"  how  dare  you  insult  me  by  such  words,  and  by  your 
presence  here  ?  Let  me  pass." 

"Insult  you,  Miss  Dinsmore?"  he  cried,  in  affected 
surprise.  "  You  were  not  wont,  in  past  days,  to  con- 
sider my  presence  an  insult,  and  I  could  never  have  be- 
lieved fickleness  a  part  of  your  nature.  You  are  now  of 
age,  and  have  a  right  to  listen  to  my  defense,  and  my 
suit  for  your  heart  and  hand." 

"  Are  you  mad  ?  Can  you  still  suppose  me  ignorant 
of  your  true  character  and  your  history  for  years  past? 
Know  then  that  I  am  fully  acquainted  with  them ;  that  I 
know  you  to  be  a  lover  of  vice  and  the  society  of  the 
vicious — a  drunkard,  profane,  a  gambler,  and  one  who 
has  stained  his  hands  with  the  blood  of  a  fellow-creature," 
she  added  with  a  shudder.  "  I  pray  God  you  may  re- 
pent and  be  forgiven ;  but  you  are  not  and  can  never  be 
anything  to  me." 

"  So  with  all  your  piety  you  forsake  your  friends  when 
they  get  into  trouble,"  he  remarked  with  a  bitter  sneer. 

"Friend  of  mine  you  never  were,"  she  answered 
quietly ;  "  I  know  it  was  my  fortune  and  not  myself  you 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  1*3 

really  wanted.  But  though  it  were  true  that  you  loved 
me  as  madly  and  disinterestedly  as  you  professed,  had  I 
known  your  character,  never,  never  should  I  have  held 
speech  with  you,  much  less  admitted  you  to  terms  of 
familiarity — a  fact  which  I  look  back  upon  with  the  deep- 
est mortification.  Let  me  pass,  sir,  and  never  venture  to 
approach  me  again." 

"  No  you  don't,  my  haughty  miss  !  I'm  not  done  with 
you  yet,"  he  exclaimed  between  his  clenched  teeth,  and 
seizing  her  rudely  by  the  arm  as  she  tried  to  step  past 
him.  "  So  you're  engaged  to  that  fatherly  friend  of  yours, 
that  pious  sneak,  that  deadly  foe  to  me?  " 

"Unhand  me,  sir  !  " 

"  Not  yet,"  he  answered,  tightening  his  grasp,  and  at 
the  same  time  taking  a  pistol  from  his  pocket.  "I  swear 
you  shall  never  marry  that  man:  promise  me  on  your 
oath  that  you'll  not,  or — I'll  shoot  you  through  the  heart ; 
the  heart  that's  turned  false  to  me.  D'ye  hear,"  and  he 
held  the  muzzle  of  his  piece  within  a  foot  of  her  breast. 

Every  trace  of  color  fled  from  her  face,  but  she  stood 
like  a  marble  statue,  without  speech  or  motion  of  a 
muscle,  her  eyes  looking  straight  into  his  with  firm  de- 
fiance. 

"  Do  you  hear  ?  "  he  repeated,  in  a  tone  of  exaspera- 
tion, "  speak  !  promise  that  you'll  never  marry  Travilla, 
or  I'll  shoot  you  in  three  minutes — shoot  you  down  dead 
on  the  spot,  if  I  swing  for  it  before  night." 

"  That  will  be  as  God  pleases,"  she  answered  low  and 
reverently;  "you  caii  have  no  power  at  all  against  me 
except  it  be  given  you  from  above." 

"  I  can't,   hey  ?  looks  like  it ;  I've  only  to  touch  the 


104  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

trigger  here,  and  your  soul's  out  o'  your  body.  Better 
promise  than  die." 

Still  she  stood  looking  him  unflinchingly  in  the  eyeji 
not  a  muscle  moving,  no  sign  of  fear  except  that  deadly; 
pallor. 

"  Well,"  lowering  his  piece,  "  you're  a  brave  girl,  and 
I  haven't  the  heart  to  do  it,"  he  exclaimed  in  admira- 
tion. "  I'll  give  up  that  promise;  on  condition  that  you 
make  another — that  you'll  keep  all  this  a  secret  for 
twenty-four  hours,  so  I  can  make  my  escape  from  the 
neighborhood  before  they  get  after  me  with  their  blood- 
iiounds." 

"  That  I  promise,  if  you  will  be  gone  at  once." 

"  You'll  not  say  a  word  to  any  one  of  having  seen  me, 
or  suspecting  I'm  about  here  ?  " 

"  Not  a  word  until  the  twenty-four  hours  are  over." 

"  Then  good-bye.  Your  pluck  has  saved  your  life; 
but  remember,  I've  not  said  I  won't  shoot  him  or  your 
father,  if  chance  throws  them  in  my  way,"  he  added, 
looking  back  over  his  shoulder  with  a  malicious  leer,  as 
he  left  the  arbor,  then  disappearing  from  sight  among 
the  trees  and  shrubbery  beyond. 

Elsie's  knees  shook  and  trembled  under  her ;  she  sank 
back  into  her  seat,  covering  her  face  and  bowing  het 
head  upon  her  lap,  while  she  sent  up  silent,  almost  ag- 
onizing petitions  for  the  safety  of  those  two  so  inexpress- 
ibly dear  to  her.  Some  moments  passed  thus,  then  she- 
rose  and  hastened,  with  a  quick  nervous  step,  to  the 
house.  She  entered  her  boudoir,  and  lay  down  upon  a 
couch  trembling  in  every  fibre,  every  nerve  quivering 
with  excitement.  The  shock  had  been  terrible. 


£LSJE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


105 


"  What  de  matter  wid  my  chile  ?  what  ails  you,  honey  ?  " 
asked  Aunt  Chloe,  coming  to  her  side  full  of  concern. 

"  I  think  one  of  my  bad  headaches  is  coming  on, 
mamjny.  But  oh,  tell  me,  is  Mr.  Travilla  here  ? — and 
papa  !  where  is  he  ?  " 

"Here  daughter,"  his  voice  answered,  close  at  hand, 
"  and  with  a  note  for  you  from  Mr.  Travilla,  who  has 
not  shown  himself  to-day." 

She  took  it  eagerly,  but  with  a  hand  that  trembled  as 
if  with  sudden  palsy,  while  the  eyes,  usually  so  keen- 
sighted,  saw  only  a  blurred  and  confused  jumble  of  let- 
ters in  place  of  the  clear,  legible  characters  really  there. 

"I  cannot  see,"  she  said,  in  a  half-frightened  tone,  and 
pressing  the  other  hand  to  her  brow. 

"And  you  are  trembling  like  an  aspen  leaf,"  he  said, 
bending  over  her  in  serious  alarm.  "  My  child,  when 
did  this  come  on  ?  and  what  has  caused  it?  " 

"  Papa,  I  cannot  tell  you  now,  or  till  to-morrow,  at 
this  hour  ;  I  will  then.  But  oh,  papa  dear,  dear  papa  \  " 
she  cried,  putting  her  arm  about  his  neck  and  bursting 
into  hysterical  weeping,  "promise  me,  if  you  love  me 
promise  me,  that  you  will  not  leave  the  house  till  I  have 
told  you.  I  am  sick,  I  am  suffering ;  you  will  stay  by 
one?  you  will  not  leave  me?  " 

"  My  darling,  I  will  do  anything  I  can  to  relieve  you, 
mentally  or  physically,"  he  answered  in  tones  of  tender- 
est  love  and  concern.  "  I  shall  not  stir  from  the  house, 
while  to  do  so  would  increase  your  suffering.  I  perceive 
there  has  been  some  villainy  practised  upon  you,  and  a 
promise  extorted,  which  I  shall  not  ask  you  to  break  ;  but 
rest  assured,  I  shall  keep  guard  over  my  precious  one." 


106  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  And  Mr.  Travilla  !  "  she  gasped.  "  Oh,  papa,  if  1 
only  knew  he  was  safe  !  " 

"  Perhaps  tbf-  note  may  set  your  mind  at  rest  on  that 
point.  Shall  I  read  it  for  you  ?  " 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  putting  it  into  his  hand  with  a 
slight  blush,  "he  never  writes  what  I  should  be  ashamed 
or  afraid  to  have  my  father  see. ' ' 

It  was  but  short,  written  merely  to  explain  his  absence, 
and  dated  from  a  neighboring  plantation,  where  he  had 
gone  to  assist  in  nursing  a  sick  friend  whom  he  should 
not  be  able  to  leave  for  some  days.  There  were  words  of 
deep,  strong  affection,  but  as  she  had  foreseen,  nothing 
that  she  need  care  to  have  her  father  know  or  see. 

"Does  not  this  news  allay  your  fears  for  him?"  Mr. 
Dinsmore  asked  tenderly. 

"Yes,  papa,"  she  answered,  the  tears  streaming  from 
her  eyes.  "  Oh,  how  good  God  is  to  me  !  I  will  trust 
Him,  trust  Him  for  you  both,  as  well  as  myself."  She 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands  while  shudder  after 
shudder  shook  her  whole  frame. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  much  perplexed,  and  deeply  con- 
cerned. "  Shall  I  send  for  Dr.  Barton  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  No,  no,  papa  !  I  am  not  ill ;  only  my  nerves  have  had 
a  great,  a  terrible  shock ;  they  seem  all  unstrung,  and  my 
temples  are  throbbing  with  pain." 

"  My  poor,  poor  darling  !  strange  that  with  all  my 
care  and  watchfulness  you  should  have  been  subjected  to 
such  a  trial.  Some  ruffian  has  been  trying  to  extort 
money  from  you,  I  presume,  by  threatened  violence  to 
yourself,  Travilla,  and  me.  Where  were  you  ?  " 

"In  my  arbor,  sir." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  \Vj 

"And  alone?  " 

"  Yes,  papa  ;  I  thought  myself  safe  there." 

"  I  forbid  you  to  go  there  or  to  any  distance  from  the 
house,  alone,  again.  You  must  always  have  some  one 
within  call,  if  not  close  at  your  side." 

"And  my  father  knows  I  will  obey  him,"  she  said, 
tremulously  lifting  his  hand  to  her  lips. 

He  administered  an  anodyne  to  relieve  the  tortured 
nerves,  then  sitting  down  beside  her,  passed  his  hand 
soothingly  over  hair  and  cheek,  while  with  the  other  he 
held  one  of  hers  in  loving,  tender  clasp.  Neither  spoke, 
and  at  length  she  fell  asleep  ;  yet  not  a  sound,  refreshing 
slumber,  but  disturbed  by  starts  and  moans,  and  frequent 
wakings  to  see  and  feel  that  he  was  still  there.  "  Papa, 
don't  go  away;  don't  leave  me  !  "  was  her  constant  cry. 

"My  darling,  my  precious  one,  I  will  not,"  was  his 
repeated  assurance;  "I  will  stay  with  you  while  this 
trouble  lasts." 

And  all  that  day  and  night  he  never  left  her  side,  while 
Rose  came  and  went,  full  of  anxiety  and  doing  every- 
thing that  could  be  done  for  the  sufferer's  relief. 

It  was  a  night  of  unrest  to  them  all ;  but  morning 
found  her  free  from  pain,  though  weak  and  languid,  and 
still  filled  with  distress  if  her  father  was  absent  for  more 
than  a  few  moments  from  her  side.  She  inquired  of  him 
at  what  hour  she  had  come  in  the  day  before:  then 
f  watched  the  time  and,  as  soon  as  released  from  her 
promise,  told  them  all. 

Great  was  his  indignation;  and,  determined  that,  if 
possible,  the  villain  should  be  apprehended  and  brought 
to  justice,  he  sent  word  at  once  to  the  magistrates :  a 


168  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

warrant  was  issued,  and  several  parties  were  presently  out 
in  different  directions  in  hot  pursuit. 

But  with  the  twenty-four  hours'  start  Jackson  L~_.~J  made 
good  his  escape,  and  the  only  advantage  gained  w?"  the 
relief  of  knowing  that  he  no  longer  infested  the  neigh- 
borhood. 

"  But  when  may  he  not  return?  "  Elsie  said  with  a 
shudder.  "  Papa,  I  tremble  for  you,  and  for — Mr.  Tra- 
Villa." 

"I  am  far  more  concerned  for  you,"  he  answered, 
gazing  upon  her  pale  face  with  pitying,  fatherly  tender- 
ness. "  But  let  us  cast  this  care,  with  all  others,  upon 
our  God.  '  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose 
mind  is  stayed  on  Thee ;  because  he  trusteth  in  Thee.'  " 


CHAPTER  ELEVENTH. 

«« Of  truth,  he  truly  will  all  styles  deserve 
Of  wise,  good,  just ;  a.  man  both  soul  and  nerve." 

— SHIRLEY. 

THE  story  reached  Mr.  Travilla's  ears  that  evening, 
and  finding  he  could  be  spared  from  the  sick-room,  h« 
hastened  to  the  Oaks.  His  emotions  were  too  big  for  ut- 
terance as  he  took  his  "little  friend"  in  his  arms  and 
clasped  her  to  his  beating  heart. 

"  God  be  thanked  that  you  are  safe  !  "  he  said  at  last. 
"  Oh,  my  darling,  my  darling,  what  peril  you  have  been, 
in  and  how  bravely  you  met  it  !  You  are  the  heroine  of 
the  hour,"  he  added  with  a  faint  laugh,  "  all,  old  and 
young,  male  and  female,  black  and  white,  are  loud  in 
praise  of  your  wonderful  firmness  and  courage.  And, 
my  darling,  I  fully  agree  with  them,  and  exult  in  the 
thought  that  this  brave  lady  is  mine  own." 

He  drew  her  closer  as  he  spoke,  and  just  touched  his 
lips  to  the  shining  hair  and  the  pure  white  forehead  rest- 
ing on  his  breast. 

"  Ah  !  "  she  murmured  low  and  softly,  a  dewy  light 
shining  in  her  eyes,  "  why  should  they  think  it  anything 
wonderful  or  strange  that  I  felt  little  dread  or  fear  at  the 
prospect  of  a  sudden  transit  from  earth  to  heaven — a 
quick  summons  home  to  my  Father's  house  on  high,  to 
be  at  once  freed  from  sin  and  forever  with  the  Lord  ?  I 
109 


no  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

have  a  great  deal  to  live  for,  life  looks  very  bright  and 
sweet  to  me  \  yet  but  for  you  and  papa,  I  think  it  would 
have  mattered  little  to  me  had  he  carried  out  his 
threat." 

"My  little  friend,  it  would  have  broken  my  heart:  to 
lose  you  were  worse  than  a  thousand  deaths." 

They  were  alone  in  Elsie's  boudoir,  but  when  an  hour 
had  slipped  rapidly  away  there  came  a  message  from  Mr. 
Dinsmore  to  the  effect  that  their  company  would  be  very 
acceptable  in  the  library.  * 

They  repaired  thither  at  once,  and  found  him  and  Rose 
laying  out  plans  for  a  summer  trip.  The  matter  was  un- 
der discussion  all  the  rest  of  the  evening  and  for  some 
days  after,  resulting  finally  in  the  getting  up  a  large  party 
of  tourists,  consisting  of  the  entire  families  of  the  Oaks 
and  Ion,  with  the  addition  of  Harry  and  Sophie  Car- 
rington,  and  Lora  with  her  husband  and  children ;  serv- 
ants of  course  included. 

They  kept  together  for  some  time,  visiting  different 
poirjtiv  interest  in  Virginia,  Pennsylvania,  and  New 
York  :  spending  several  v  <>eks  at  Cape  May ;  where  they 
were  joined  by  the  Ali  is-.  •<  -f  Philadelphia ;  Mr.  Edward 
and  Adelaide  among  he  i  they  having  returned  from 
Europe  shortly  before 

•),  At  length  they  separned,  >c  *e  going  in  one  direction, 
'some  in  another.  Loi  wv  to  Louise,  Rose  to  her 
father's,  Mrs.  and  Mr.  TiavilL  o  friends  in  Cincinnati 
and  its  suburbs,  and  Elsie  to  pay  a  long-promised  visit  to 
Lucy  in  her  married  home,  a  beautiful  country-seat  on 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson.  Her  father  saw  her  safely 
there,  then  left  her  for  a  fortnight ;  their  fears  in  regard 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  in 

to  Jackson  having  been  allayed  by  the  news  that  he  had 
been  again  arrested  for  burglary,  and  Lucy  and  her  hus- 
band promising  to  guard  their  precious  charge  with  jeal- 
ous care. 

At  the  end  of  the  fortnight  Mr.  Dinsraore  returned  for 
his  daughter,  and  they  went  on  together  to  Lansdale  to 
visit  Miss  Stanhope. 

Elsie  had  set  her  heart  on  having  her  dear  old  aunt 
spend  the  fall  and  winter  with  them  in  the  "sunny 
South,"  and  especially  on  her  being  present  at  the  wed- 
ding ;  and  Miss  Stanhope,  after  much  urging  and  many 
protestations  that  she  was  tco  old  for  such  a  journey,  had 
at  last  yielded,  and  given  her  promise,  on  condition  that 
her  nephew  and  niece  should  come  for  her,  and  first 
spend  a  week  or  two  in  Lansdale.  She  entreated  that 
Mr.  Travilla  and  .his  mother  might  be  of  the  party. 
"  He  was  a  great  favorite  of  hers,  and  she  was  sure  his 
mother  must  be  a  woman  in  a  thousand." 

They  accepted  the  kindness  as  cordially  as  it  was  prof- 
fered ;  met  the  others  at  the  nearest  point  of  connection, 
and  all  arrived  together. 

It  was  not  Lottie  King  who  met  them  at  the  depot  this 
time,  but  a  fine-looking  young  man  with  black  moustache 
and  roguish  dark  eye,  who  introduced  himself  as  Harry 
Duncan,  Miss  Stanhope's  nephew. 

'•'Almost  a  Cousin!  Shall  we  consider  you  quite 
one?  "asked  Mrl  Dinsmore,  warmly  shaking  the  hand 
held  out  to  hi;  in  cordial  greeting. 

"Thank  you,  I  shall  fee1  highly  h'onored,"  the  young 
man  answered  in  a  gratified  tone,  and  with  a  glance  of 
undisguised  admiration  and  a  'respectful  bow  directed  to- 


112  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

wards  Elsie.  Then  turning  with  an  almost  reveven'_*a1  air 
and  deeper  bow  to  Mrs.  Travilla,  "  And,  madam,  may  I 
have  the  privilege  of  placing  you  alongside  of  my  dear 
old  aunt,  and  addressing  you  by  the  same  title?  " 

"You  may,  indeed,"  was  the  smiling  rejoinder. 
"And  my  son  here,  I  suppose,  will  take  his  place  with 
the  others  as  cousin.  No  doubt  we  are  all  related,  if  we 
could  only  go  back  far  enough  in  tracing  out  our  geneal- 
ogies." 

"  To  Father  Adam,  for  instance,"  remarked  Mr. 
Travilla,  laughingly. 

"  Or  good  old  Noah,  or  even  his  son  Japheth,"  re- 
joined Harry,  leading  the  way  to  a  family  carriage  suffi- 
ciently roomy  to  hold  them  all  comfortably. 

"  Your  checks,  if  you  please,  aunt  and  cousins ;  and 
Simon  here  will  attend  to  your  luggage.  Servants'  also." 

Elsie  turned  her  head  to  see  a  young  colored  man, 
bowing,  scraping,  and  grinning  from  ear  to  ear,  in  whom 
she  perceived  a  faint  resemblance  to  the  lad  Simon  of 
four  years  ago. 

"You  hain't  forgot  me,  miss?"  he  said.  "I'm  still 
at  de  ole  place  wid  Miss  Wealthy." 

She  gave  him  a  smile  and  a  nod,  dropping  a  gold 
dollar  into  his  hand  along  with  her  checks ;  the  gentle- 
men said,  "How  d'ye  do,"  and  were  equally  generous, 
and  he  went  off  chuckling. 

As  they  drew  near  their  destination,  a  quaint  little 
figure  could  be  seen  standing  at  the  gate  in  the  shade  of 
a  maple  tree,  whose  leaves  of  mingled  green  and  scarlet, 
just  touched  by  the  September  frosts,  made  a  brilliant 
contrast  to  the  sober  hue  of  her  dress. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  113 

"There  she  is!  our  dear  old  auntie!"  cried  Elsie 
with  eager  delight,  that  brought  a  flush  of  pleasure  to 
Harry's  face. 

Miss  Stanhope's  greetings  were  characteristic.  "  Elsie ! 
my  darling  !  I  have  you  again  after  all  these  years  !  Mrs. 
Vanilla  too  !  how  kind  !  but  you  tell  me  your  face  is  al- 
ways that.  Horace,  nephew,  this  is  good  of  you  !  And 
Mr.  Torville,  I'm  as  glad  as  the  rest  to  see  you.  Come 
in,  come  in,  all  of  you,  and  make  yourselves  at  home." 

"  Does  Mrs.  Schilling  still  live  opposite  to  you,  Aunt 
Wealthy  ?  "  asked  Elsie  as  they  sat  about  the  tea-table  an 
hour  later. 

"  Yes,  dearie  ;  though  she's  lost  all  commercial  value," 
laughed  the  old  lady ;  "  she's  taken  a  second  wife  at  last ; 
not  Mr.  Was  though,  but  a  newcomer,  Mr.  Smearer." 

"Dauber,  auntie,"  corrected  Harry,  gravely. 

"Well,  well,  child,  the  meaning's  about  the  same," 
returned  Miss  Stanhope,  laughing  afresh  at  her  own  mis- 
take, "  and  I'd  as  soon  be  the  other  as  one." 

"Mrs.  Dauber  wouldn't  though,"  said  Harry.  "I 
noticed  her  face  grow  as  red  as  a  beet  the  other  day 
when  you  called  her  Mrs.  Smearer." 

"  She  didn't  mind  being  Mrs.  Sixpence,  I  think/' 
said  Elsie. 

"  Oh  yes,  she  did ;  it  nettled  her  a  good  deal  at  first^ 
but  she  finally  got  used  to  it ;  after  finding  out  how  in- 
nocent auntie  was,  and  how  apt  to  miscall  other  names." 

"But  I  thought  she  would  never  be  content  with  any- 
body but  Mr.  Wert." 

"  Well,  she  lost  all  hope  there,  and  dropped  him  at 
once  as  soon  as  Dauber  made  his  appearance." 


114  ELSfE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  inquired  about  the  Kings.  Elsie  had 
done  so  in  a  private  chat  with  her  aunt,  held  in  her  room 
directly  after  their  arrival. 

"The  doctor's  as  busy  as  ever,  killing  people  all  round 
the  country;  he's  very  successful  at  it,"  replied  Miss 
Stanhope;  "  I've  the  utmost  confidence  in  his  skill." 

"You  are  a  warm  friend  of  his,  I  know,  aunt,"  said 
Mr.  Dinsmore,  smiling,  "but  I  would  advise  you  not  to 
try  to  assist  his  reputation  among  strangers." 

"  Why  not,  nephew?  " 

"Lest  they  should  take  your  words  literally,  auntie." 

"  Ah,  yes,  I  must  be  careful  how  I  use  my  stumbling 
tongue,"  she  answered  with  a  good-humored  smile.  "I 
ought  to  have  always  by,  somebody  to  correct  my  blun- 
ders. I've  asked  Harry  to  do  me  that  kindness,  and  he 
often  does." 

"It  is  quite  unnecessary  with  us ;  for  we  all  know 
what  you  intend  to  say,"  remarked  Mrs.  Travilla,  cour- 
teously. 

"Thank  you,  dear  madam,"  said  Miss  Stanhope;  "I 
am  not  at  all  sensitive  about  it,  fortunately,  as  my  nephew 
knows,  and  my  blunders  afford  as  much  amusement 
to  any  one  else  as  to  me;  when  I'm  made  aware  of 
them." 

"Nettie  King  is  married,  papa,"  said  Elsie. 

"Ah  !  Lottie  also?" 

"  No,  she's  at  home  and  will  be  in,  with  her  father 
and  mother,  this  evening,"  said  Aunt  Wealthy.  "I've 
been  matching  to  make  a  hope  between  her  and  Harry, 
but  find  it's  quite  useless." 

"No,  we're  the  best  of  friends,  but  don'*,  care  to  be 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  HJ 

anything  more,"  remarked  the  young  gentleman,  color- 
ing and  laughing. 

"  No,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  "it  is  said  by  some  one  that 
two  people  with  hair  and  eyes  of  the  same  color  should 
beware  of  choosing  each  other  as  partners  for  life." 

"And  I  believe  it,"  returned  Harry.  "Lottie  and  I 
are  too  much  alike  in  disposition.  I  must  look  for  a 
blue-eyed,  fair-haired  maiden,  whose  mental  and  moral 
characteristics  will  supply  the  deficiencies  in  mine." 

"  Gray  eyes  and  brown  ;  that  will  do  very  well,  won't 
it?"  said  the  old  lady  absently,  glancing  from  Elsie  to 
Mr.  Travilla  and  back  again. 

Both  smiled,  and  Elsie  cast  down  her  eyes  with  a 
lovely  blush,  while  Mr.  Travilla  answered  cheerily,  "  We 
think  so,  Miss  Stanhope." 

"  Call  me  Aunt  Wealthy ;  almost  everybody  does,  and 
you  might  as  well  begin  now  as  any  time." 

"  Thank  you,  I  shall  avail  myself  of  the  privilege  in 
future." 

The  weather  was  warm  for  the  time  of  year,  and  on 
leaving  the  table  the  whole  party  repaired  to  the  front 
porch,  where  Harry  quickly  provided  every  one  with  a 
seat. 

"That  is  a  beautiful  maple  yonder,"  remarked  Mr. 
Travilla. 

"Yes,  sir,"  returned  Harry;  "we  have  a  row  of 
them  all  along  the  front  of  the  lot;  and  as  Mrs. 
Dauber  says,  they  are  'perfectly  gordeous  '  in  the  fall." 

"The  maple  is  my  favorite  among  the  shade  leaves," 
remarked  Miss  Stanhope,  joining  in  the  talk,  "from  the 
time  it  trees  out  in  the  spring  till  the  bare  become 


n6  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

branches  in  the  fall.  Through  this  month  and  next 
they're  a  perpetual  feast  to  the  eye." 

"  Aunt,  how  did  you  decide  in  regard  to  that  invest- 
ment you  wrote  to  consult  me  about?  "  asked  Mr.  Dins- 
more,  turning  to  her. 

"Oh,  I  concluded  to  put  in  a  few  hundreds,  as  you 
thought  it  safe,  on  the  principle  of  not  having  all  my 
baskets  in  one  egg." 

"  Small  baskets  they  would  have  to  be,  auntie,"  Harry 
remarked  quietly. 

"Yes,  my  eggs  are  not  so  many,  but  quite  enough  for 
an  old  lady  like  me." 

As  the  evening  shadows  crept  over  the  landscape  the 
air  began  to  be  chilly,  and  our  friends  adjourned  to  the 
parlor. 

Here  all  was  just  as  when  Elsie  last  saw  it ;  neat  as 
wax,  everything  in  place,  and  each  feather-stuffed  cush- 
ion beaten  up  and  carefuMy  smoothed  to  the  state  of 
perfect  roundness  in  whidi  Miss  Stanhope's  soul  de- 
lighted. 

Mrs.  Travilla,  who  had  heard  descriptions  of  the  room 
and  its  appointments  from  both  her  son  and  Elsie, 
iooked  about  her  with  interest :  upon  the  old  portraits,* 
the  cabinet  of  curiosities,  and  the  wonderful  sampler, 
worked  by  Miss  Wealthy's  grandmother.  She  examined1 
with  curiosity  the  rich  embroidery  of  the  chair  cushions/: 
but  preferred  a  seat  upon  the  sofa. 

"Dr.  and  Mrs.  King  and  Miss  Lottie  I"  announced 
Simon's  voice  from  the  doorway,  and  the  three  en- 
tered. 

Lively,  cordial  greetings  followed,  especially  on  tha  part 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  117 

of  the  two  young  girls.  Mrs.  Travilla  was  introduced, 
and  all  settled  themselves  for  a  chat ;  Lottie  and  Elsie, 
of  course,  managing  to  find  seats  side  by  side. 

"  You  dearest  girl,  you  have  only  changed  by  growing 
more  beautiful  than  ever,"  cried  Lottie,  squeezing  Elsie's 
hand  which  she  still  held,  and  gazing  admiringly  into  her 
face. 

Elsie  laughed  low  and  mus'cally. 

"  Precisely  what  I  was  thinking  of  you,  Lottie.  It 
must  be  your  own  fault  that  you  are  still  single.  But 
we  won't  waste  time  in  flattering  each  other,  when  we 
have  so  much  to  say  that  is  better  worth  while." 

"No,  surely;  Aunt  Wealthy  has  told  me  of  your  en- 
gagement. ' ' 

"That  was  right;  it  is  no  secret,  and  should  not  be 
from  you  if  it  were  from  others.  Lottie,  I  want  you  to 
be  one  of  my  bridesmaids.  We're  going  to  carry  Aunt 
Wealthy  off  to  spend  the  winter  with  us,  and  I  shall  not 
be  content  unless  I  can  do  the  same  by  you." 

"A  winter  in  the  ' sunny  South  ! '  and  with  you ;  how 
delightful  !  you  dear,  kind  creature,  to  think  of  it,  and 
to  ask  me.  Ah,  if  I  only  could  !  " 

"I  think  you  can;  though  of  course  I  know  your 
father  and  mother  must  be  consulted ;  and  if  you  come, 
you  will  grant  my  request?" 

"  Yes,  yes  indeed  !  gladly." 

Aunt  Chloe,  always  making  herself  useful  wherever 
she  went,  was  passing  around  the  room  with  a  pile  of 
plates,  Phillis  following  with  cakes  and  confections,  while 
Simon  brought  in  a  waiter  with  saucers  and  spoons,  and 
two  large  moulds  of  ice  cream. 


»i8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Will  you  help  the  cream,  Harry?"  said  Miss 
Stanhope.  "  There  are  two  kinds,  you  see,  tra villa  and 
melon.  Ask  Mrs.  Vanilla  which  she'll  have;  or  if  she'll 
take  both." 

"Mrs.  Travilla,  may  I  have  the  pleasure  of  helping 
you  to  ice  cream?"  he  asked.  "There  are  two  kinds, 
vanilla  and  lemon.  Let  me  give  you  both." 

"  If  you  please,"  she  anr  vered,  with  a  slightly  amused 
look ;  for  though  Aunt  Wealthy  had  spoken  in  ar  under- 
tone, the  words  had  reached  her  ear. 

"Which  will  you  have,  dearies?"  said  the  old  lady, 
drawing  near  the  young  girls'  corner,  "  travilla  cream  or 
melon?" 

"  Lemon  for  me,  if  you  please,  Aunt  Wealthy,"  replied 
Lottie. 

"And  I  will  take  Travilla,"  Elsie  said,  low  and  mis- 
chievously, and  with  a  merry  twinkle  in  her  eye. 

"  But  you  have  no  cake  1  your  plate  is  quite  empty 
and  useless,"  exclaimed  the  aunt.  "Horace,"  turning 
towards  her  nephew,  who  was  chatting  with  the  doctor 
at  the  other  side  of  the  room,  "  some  of  this  cake  is 
very  plain ;  you  don't  object  to  Elsie  eating  a  little  of 
it?" 

"She  is  quite  grown  up  now,  aunt,  and  can  judge 
for  herself  in  such  matters,"  he  answered  smiling, 
then  turned  to  finish  what  he  had  been  saying  to  the 
doctor. 

"You  will  have  some  then,  dear,  won't  you?"  Miss 
Stanhope  inquired  in  her  most  coaxing  tone. 

"A  very  small  slice  of  this  sponge  cake,  if  you  please, 
auntie." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  jig 

"How  young  Mr.  Travilla  looks,"  remarked  Lottie, 
"  younger  I  think,  than  he  did  four  years  ago.  Happi- 
ness, I  presume ;  it's  said  to  have  that  effect.  J  believe 
I  was  vexed  when  I  first  heard  you  were  engaged  to  him, 
because  I  thought  he  was  too  old ;  but  really  he  doesn't 
look  so;  a  man  should  be  considerably  older  than  his 
wife,  that  she  may  find  it  easier  to  look  up  to  him  ;  and 
he  know  the  better  how  to  take  care  of  her." 

"  I  would  not  have  him  a  day  younger,  except  that  he 
would  like  to  be  nearer  my  age,  or  different  in  any  way 
from  what  he  is,"  Elsie  said,  her  eyes  involuntarily  turn- 
ing in  Mr.  Travilla's  direction. 

They  met  the  ardent  gaze  of  his.  Both  smiled,  and 
rising  he  crossed  the  room  and  joined  them.  They  had 
a  half  hour  of  lively  chat  together,  then  Mrs.  King  rose 
to  take  leave. 

Mr.  Travilla  moved  away  to  speak  to  the  doctor,  and 
Lottie  seized  the  opportunity  to  whisper  to  her  friend, 
"  He's  just  splendid,  Elsie !  I  don't  wonder  you  look 
so  happy,  or  that  he  secured  your  hand  and  heart  after 
they  had  been  refused  to  dukes  and  lords.  You  see 
Aunt  Wealthy  has  been  telling  me  all  about  your  con- 
quests in  Europe,"  she  added,  in  answer  to  Elsie's  look 
of  surprise. 

"I  am,  indeed,  very  happy,  Lottie,"  Elsie  replied  in 
the  same  low  tone ;  "  I  know  Mr.  Travilla  so  thoroughly, 
and  have  not  more  perfect  confidence  in  papa's  goodness 
and  love  to  me,  than  in  his.  It  is  a  very  restful  thing  to 
have  such  a  friend." 

Dr.  King's  circumstances  had  greatly  improved  in  the 
last  four  years,  so  that  he  was  quite  able  to  give  Lottie 


120  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

the  pleasure  of  accepting  Elsie's  invitation,  and  at  once 
gave  his  cordial  consent.  Mrs.  King  at  first  objected  that 
the  two  weeks  of  our  friends'  intended  stay  in  Lansdale 
would  not  give  sufficient  time  for  the  necessary  additions 
to  Lottie's  wardrobe ;  but  this  difficulty  was  overcome  by 
a  suggestion  from  Elsie.  She  would  spend  two  or  three 
weeks  in  Philadelphia,  attending  to  the  purchasing  and 
making  up  of  her  trousseau,  she  said,  and  Lottie's  dresses 
could  be  bought  and  made  at  the  same  time  and  place. 

The  two  weeks  allotted  to  Lansdale  of  course  passed 
very  rapidly ;  especially  to  Harry,  to  whom  the  society 
of  these  new-found  relatives  was  a  great  pleasure,  and 
who  on  their  departure  would  be  left  behind,  with  only 
Phillis  for  his  housekeeper.  , 

The  latter  received  so  many  charges  from  Aunt 
Wealthy  in  regard  to  careful  attention  to  "  Mr.  Harry's  " 
health  and  comfort,  that  at  length  she  grew  indignant, 
and  protested  that  she  loved  "Mr.  Harry  as  if  he  was 
her  own  child — didn't  she  nuss  him  when  he  was  a.  little 
feller?  and  there  was  no  'casion  for  missus  to  worry  an' 
fret  as  if  she  was  leavin'  him  to  a  stranger." 

It  was  not  for  want  of  a  cordial  invitation  to  both  the 
Oaks  and  Ion  that  Harry  was  left  behind ;  but  business 
required  his  presence  at  home,  and  he  could  only  promise 
himself  a  week's  holiday  at  the  time  of  the  weddingc 


CHAPTER  TWELFTH. 

«  Bring  flowers,  fresh  flowers  for  the  bride  to  wear; 
They  were  born  to  blush  in  her  shining  hair ; 
She's  leaving  the  home  of  her  childhood's  mirth  ; 
She  hath  bid  farewell  to  her  father's  hearth ; 
Her  place  is  now  by  another's  side ; 
Bring  flowers  for  the  locks  of  the  fair  young  bride." 

— MRS.  HEMANS. 

A  FAIR  October  day  is  waning,  and  as  the  shadows 
deepen  and  the  stars  shine  out  here  and  there  in  the 
darkening  sky,  the  grounds  at  the  Oaks  glitter  with  col 
ored  lamps,  swinging  from  the  branches  of  the  trees  that 
shade  the  long  green  alleys,  and  dependent  from  arches 
wreathed  with  flowers.  In  doors  and  out  everything 
wears  a  festive  look ;  almost  the  whole  house  is  thrown 
open  to  the  guests  who  will  presently  come  thronging  to 
i:  from  nearly  every  plantation  for  miles  around. 

The  grand  wedding  has  been  talked  of,  prepared  for, 
and  looked  forward  to  for  months  past,  and  few,  if  any, 
favored  with  an  invitation,  will  willingly  stay  away. 

The  spacious  entrance  hall  is  brilliantly  lighted,  and 
on  either  hand  wide-open  doors  give  admission  to  long 
suites  of  richly,  tastefully  furnished  rooms,  beautiful  with 
rare  statuary,  paintings,  articles  of  vertu,  and  flowers 
scattered  everywhere,  in  bouquets,  wreaths,  festoons, 
filling  the  air  with  their  delicious  fragrance. 

These  apartments,  waiting  for  the  guests,  are  almost 

121 


122  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

entirely  deserted ;  but  in  Elsie's  dressing-room  a  bevy  of 
gay  young  girls,  in  white  tarletan  and  with  flowers  in 
their  elaborately  dressed  hair,  are  laughing  and  chatting 
merrily,  and  now  and  then  offering  a  suggestion  to  Aunt 
Chloe  and  Dinah,  whose  busy  hands  are  arranging  their 
young  mistress  for  her  bridal. 

"  Lovely  !  "  "  Charming  !  "  '•'  Perfect !  "  the  girls 
exclaim  in  delighted,  admiring  chorus,  as  the  tirewomen 
having  completed  their  labors,  Elsie  stands  before  them 
in  a  dress  of  the  richest  white  satin,  with  an  overskirt  of 
point  lace,  a  veil  of  the  same,  enveloping  her  slender 
figure  like  an  airy  cloud,  or  morning  mist,  reaching  from 
the  freshly  gathered  orange  blossoms  wreathed  in  the 
shining  hair  to  the  tiny  white  satin  slipper  just  peeping 
from  beneath  the  rich  folds  of  the  dress.  Flowers  are 
her  only  ornament  to-night,  and  truly  she  needs  no 
other. 

"Perfect!  nothing  superfluous,  nothing  wanting," 
says  Lottie  King. 

Rose,  looking  almost  like  a  young  girl  herself,  so  sweet 
and  fair  in  her  beautiful  evening  dress,  came  in  at  that 
instant  to  see  if  all  was  right  in  the  bride's  attire.  Her 
eyes  grew  misty  while  she  gazed,  her  heart  swelling  with 
a  strange  mixture  of  emotions :  love,  joy,  pride,  and  a 
touch  of  sadness  at  the  thought  of  the  partial  loss  that 
night  was  to  bring  to  her  beloved  husband  and  herself. 

"Am  I  all  right,  mamma?"  asked  Elsie. 

"I  can  see  nothing  amiss,"  Rose  answered,  with  a 
slight  tremble  in  her  voice.  "  My  darling,  I  never  saw 
you  so  wondrously  sweet  and  fair,"  she  whispered,  ad- 
justing a  fold  of  the  drapery.  "  You  are  very  happy  ?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  123 

"Very,  mamma  dear;  yet  a  trifle  sad  too.  But  that 
is  a  secret  between  you  and  me.  How  beautiful  you  are 
to-night." 

"Ah,  dear  child,  quite  ready,  and  the  loveliest  bride 
that  ever  I  saw,  from  the  sole  of  your  head  to  the  crown 
of  your  foot,"  said  a  silvery  voice,  as  a  quaint  little 
figure  came  softly  in  and  stood  at  Mrs.  Dinsmore's  side 
— "no,  I  mean  from  the  crown  of  your  foot  to  the  sole 
of  your  head.  Ah,  funerals  are  almost  as  sad  as  wed- 
dings. I  don't  know  how  people  can  ever  feel  like  dan- 
cing at  them." 

"  Well,  auntie  dear,  there'll  be  no  dancing  at  mine," 
said  Elsie,  smiling  slightly. 

* '  I  must  go  and  be  ready  to  receive  our  guests, ' '  said 
Rose,  hearing  the  rumble  of  carriage  wheels.  '.*  Elsie, 
dear  child,"  she  whispered,  "  keep  calm.  You  can  have 
no  doubts  or  fears  in  putting  your  future  in " 

"No,  no,  mamma,  not  the  slightest,"  and  the  fail 
face  grew  radiant. 

As  Rose  passed  out  at  one  door,  Miss  Stanhope  follow- 
ing, with  a  parting  injunction  to  the  bride  not  to  grow 
frightened  or  nervous,  Mr.  Dinsmore  entered  by  another. 

He  stood  a  moment  silently  gazing  upon  his  lovely 
iaughter ;  then  a  slight  motion  of  his  hand  sent  all  oth- 
ys  from  the  room,  the  bridesmaids  passing  into  the 
aoudoir,  where  the  groom  and  his  attendants  were  al- 
ready assembled,  the  tirewomen  vanishing  by  a  door  on 
;he  opposite  side. 

"My  darling!"  murmured  the  father,  in  low,  half 
tremulous  accents,  putting  his  arm  about  the  slender 
vaist,  "my  beautiful  darling!  how  can  I  give  you  to 


124  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

another  ?  "  and  again  and  again  his  lips  were  pressed  to 
hers  in  long,  passionate  kisses. 

"Papa,  please  don't  make  me  cry,"  she  pleaded,  the 
soft  eyes  lifted  to  his,  filled  almost  to  overflowing. 

"No,  no,  I  must  not,"  he  said,  hastily  taking  out  his 
handkerchief  and  wiping  away  the  tears  before  they  fell. 
"  It  is  shamefully  selfish  in  me  to  come  and  disturb  your 
mind  thus  just  now." 

"No,  papa,  no,  no;  I  will  not  have  you  say  that. 
Thank  you  for  coming.  It  would  have  hurt  me  had  you 
stayed  away.  But  you  would  not  have  things  different 
now  if  you  could  ?  have  no  desire  to." 

"No,  daughter,  no;  yet,  unreasonable  as  it  is,  the 
thought  will  come,  bringing  sadness  with  it,  that  to-night 
you  resign  my  name,  and  my  house  ceases  to  be  your 
only  home." 

"  Papa,  I  shall  never  resign  the  name  dear  to  me  be- 
cause inherited  from  you  :  I  shall  only  add  to  it ;  your 
house  shall  always  be  one  of  my  dear  homes,  and  I  shall 
be  your  own,  own  daughter,  your  own  child,  as  truly  as 
I  ever  have  been.  Is  it  not  so  ?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  precious  little  comforter." 

"And  you  are  not  going  to  give  me  away — ah,  papa, 
I  could  never  bear  that  any  more  than  you;  you 
are  taking  a  partner  in  the  concern,"  she  added  with 
playful  tenderness,  smiling  archly  through  gathering  tears. 

Again  he  wiped  them  hastily  away.  "  Did  ever  father 
have  such  a  dear  daughter?"  he  said,  gazing  fondly 
down  into  the  sweet  face.  "  I  ought  to  be  the  happiest 
of  men.  I  believe  I  am " 

"  Except  one,"  exclaimed  a  joyous  voice,  at  sound  of 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  125 

which  Elsie's  eyes  brightened  and  the  color  deepened  on 
her  cheek.  "  May  I  come  in  ?  " 

"Yes,  Tra villa,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore;  "you  have 
now  an  equal  right  with  me." 

Travilla  thought  his  was  superior,  or  would  be  after 
the  ceremony,  but  generously  refrained  from  saying  so. 
And  had  Mr.  Dinsmore  been  questioned  on  the  subject, 
he  could  not  have  asserted  that  it  had  ever  occurred  to 
him  that  Mr.  Allison  had  an  equal  right  with  himself  in 
Rose.  But  few  people  are  entirely  consistent. 

Mr.  Travilla  drew  near  the  two,  still  standing  together, 
and  regarded  his  bride  with  a  countenance  beaming  with 
love  and  delight.  The  sweet  eyes  sought  his  question- 
ingly,  and  meeting  his  ardent  gaze  the  beautiful  face 
sparkled  all  over  with  smiles  and  blushes. 

"Does  my  toilet  please  you,  my  friend?"  she  asked. 
"And  you,  papa?" 

"The  general  effect  is  charming,"  said  Mr.  Travilla; 
"  but,"  he  added,  in  low,  tender  tones  saying  far  more 
than  the  words,  "I've  been  able  to  see  nothing  else  for 
the  dear  face  that  is  always  that  to  me." 

"I  can  see  no  flaw  in  face  or  attire,"  Mr.  Dinsmore 
said,  taking  a  more  critical  survey ;  "  you  are  altogether 
pleasing  in  your  doting  father's  eyes,  my  darling.  But 
you  must  not  stand  any  longer.  You  will  need  all  your 
strength  for  your  journey."  And  he  would  have  led  her 
to  a  sofa. 

But  she  gently  declined.  "Ah,  I  am  much  too  fine  to 
sit  down  just  now,  my  dear,  kind  father,  I  should  crush 
my  lace  badly.  So  please  let  me  stand.  I  am  uot  con- 
scious of  weariness." 


S6  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

He  yielded,  saying  with  a  smile,  "  That  would  be  a 
pity ;  for  it  is  very  beautiful.  And  surely  you  ought  to 
be  allowed  your  own  way  to-night  if  ever." 

"To-night  and  ever  after,"  whispered  the  happy 
groom  in  the  ear  of  his  bride. 

A  loving,  trustful  look  was  her  only  answer. 

A  continued  rolling  of  wheels  without,  and  buzz  of 
voices  coming  from  veranda,  hall,  and  reception  rooms, 
could  now  be  heard. 

"The  house  must  be  filling  fast,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
"and  as  host  I  should  be  present  to  receive  and  welcome 
my  guests,  Travilla,"  and  his  voice  trembled  slightly,  as 
he  took  Elsie's  right  hand  and  held  it  for  a  moment 
closely  clasped  in  his ;  "I  do  not  fear  to  trust  you  with 
what  to  me  is  a  greater  treasure  than  all  the  gold  of  Cali- 
fornia. Cherish  my  darling  as  the  apple  of  your  eye ;  I 
know  you  will." 

He  bent  down  for  another  silent  caress,  laid  the  hand 
in  that  of  his  friend,  and  left  the  room. 

"And  you  do  not  fear  to  trust  me,  my  little  friend?" 
Tra villa's  tones,  too,  were  tremulous  with  deep  feeling. 

"  I  have  not  the  shadow  of  a  fear,"  she  answered,  her 
eyes  meeting  his  with  an  earnest,  childlike  confidence. 

" Bless  you  for  those  words,  dearest,"  he  said ;  "God 
helping  me  you  never  shall  have  cause  to  regret  them." 

A  door  opened,  and  a  handsome,  dark  eyed  boy,  a 
miniature  likeness  of  his  father,  came  hurrying  in. 
"  Elsie  I  Papa  said  I  might  come  and  see  how  beautiful 
you  are!"  he  cried,  as  if  resolutely  mastering  some 
•trong  emotion,  "but  I'm  not  to  say  anything  to  make 
you  cry.  I'm  not  to  hug  you  hard  and  spoil  your  dress. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  127 

Oh,  but  you  do  look  like  an  angel,  only  without  the 
wings.  Mr.  Travilla,  you'll  be  good,  good  to  her,  won't 
you?  "  and  the  voice  almost  broke  down. 

"I  will,  indeed,  Horace;  you  may  be  sure  of  that. 
And  you  needn't  feel  as  if  you  are  losing  her,  she'll  be 
back  again  in  a  few  weeks,  please  God." 

"But  not  to  live  at  home  anymore!"  he  cried  im- 
petuously. "  No,  no,  I  wasn't  to  say  that,  I " 

"Come  here  and  kiss  me,  my  dear  little  brother," 
Elsie  said  tenderly;  "and  you  shall  hug  me,  too,  as 
hard  as  you  like,  before  I  go." 

He  was  not  slow  to  accept  the  invitation,  and  evidently 
had  a  hard  struggle  with  himself,  to  refrain  from  giving 
the  forbidden  hug. 

"  You  may  hug  me  instead,  Horace,  if  you  like,"  said 
Mr.  Travilla ;  "  you  know  we're  very  fond  of  each  other, 
and  are  going  to  be  brothers  now." 

"Yes,  that  I  will,  for  I  do  like  you  ever  so  much," 
cried  the  boy,  springing  into  the  arms  held  out  to  him, 
and  receiving  and  returning  a  warm  embrace,  while  the 
sister  looked  on  with  eyes  glistening  with  pleasure. 

"  Now,  in  a  few  minutes  I'll  become  your  brother 
Edward ;  and  that's  what  I  want  you  to  call  me  in  future. 
Will  you  do  it?" 

"Yes,  sir;  if  papa  doesn't  forbid  me." 

A  light  tap  at  the  door  leading  into  the  boudoir,  and 
Walter  put  in  his  head.  "The  company,  the  clergy- 
man, and  the  hour  have  come.  Are  the  bride  and  groom 
ready?" 

"  Yes." 

Releasing  the  child,  Mr.  Travilla  drew  Elsie's  hand 


128  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

within  his  arm.  For  an  instant  he  bent  his  eyes  with 
earnest,  questioning  gaze  upon  her  face.  It  wore  an  ex- 
pression that  touched  him  to  the  heart,  so  perfectly  trust- 
ful, so  calmly,  peacefully  happy,  yet  with  a  deep  tender 
solemnity  mingling  with  and  subduing  her  joy.  The 
soft  eyes  were  misty  with  unshed  tears  as  she  lifted  them 
to  his. 

"  It  is  for  life,"  she  whispered ;  "  and  I  am  but  young 
and  foolish  j  shall  you  never  regret  ?  " 

"Never,  never;  unless  you  grow  weary  of  your 
choice." 

The  answering  smile  was  very  sweet  and  confiding. 
*'  I  have  not  chosen  lightly,  and  do  not  fear  because  it  is 
for  life,"  was  its  unspoken  language. 

And  truly  it  was  no  hasty,  ill-considered  step  she  was 
taking,  but  one  that  had  been  calmly,  thoughtfully  pon- 
dered in  many  an  hour  of  solitude  and  communion  with 
that  unseen  Friend  whom  from  earliest  youth  she  had 
acknowledged  in  all  her  ways,  and  who  had,  according 
to  His  promise,  directed  her  paths.  There  was  no  ex^ 
citement,  no  nervous  tremor,  about  her  then  or  during 
the  short  ceremony  that  made  them  no  more  twain  but 
one  flesh.  So  absorbed  was  she  in  the  importance  and 
solemnity  of  the  act  she  was  performing,  that  little  room 
was  left  for  thought  of  anything  else — her  personal  ap- 
pearance, or  the  hundreds  of  pairs  of  eyes  fixed  upon 
her ;  even  her  father's  presence,  and  the  emotions  swell- 
Ing  in  his  breast  were  for  the  time  forgotten.  Many 
marked  the  rapt  expression  of  her  face,  and  the  clear  and 
distinct  though  low  tones  of  the  sweet  voice  as  she 
pledged  herself  to  "love,  honor,  and  obey."  Mr.  Tra« 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  lay 

villa's  promise  "to  love,  honor,  and  cherish  to  life's 
end,"  was  given  no  less  earnestly  and  emphatically. 

The  deed  was  done  •  and  relatives  and  friends  gath- 
ered about  them  with  kindly  salutations  and  good  wishes. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  the  first  to  salute  the  bride.  "  God 
bless  and  keep  you,  my  daughter,"  were  his  tenderly 
whispered  words. 

"  Dear,  dear  papa,"  was  all  she  said  in  response,  but 
her  eyes  spoke  volumes.  "I  am  yours  still,  your  very 
own,  and  glad  it  is  so,"  they  said. 

Then  came  Rose  with  her  tender,  silent  caress,  half- 
sorrowful,  half-joyful,  and  Mrs.  Travilla  with  her  alto- 
gether joyous  salutation,  "  My  dear  daughter,  may  your 
cup  of  happiness  be  ever  filled  to  overflowing;  "  while 
Mr.  Dinsmore  to  hide  his  emotion  turned  jocosely  to 
Travilla  with  a  hearty  shake  of  the  hand,  and  "  I  wish 
you  joy,  my  son." 

"Thank  you,  father,"  returned  the  groom  gravely,  but 
with  a  twinkle  of  merriment  in  his  eye. 

Aunt  Wealthy,  standing  close  by  awaiting  her  turn  to 
greet  the  bride,  shook  her  head  at  her  nephew.  "Ah, 
you  are  quite  too  old  for  that,  Horace.  Mr.  Vanilla,  I 
wish  you  joy ;  but  what  am  I  to  call  you  now  ?  " 

"Edward,  if  you  please,  Aunt  Wealthy." 

"Ah,  yes,  that  will  do  nicely;  it's  a  good  name — so 
easily  forgotten.  Elsie,  dearie,  you  went  through  it 
brave  as  a  lion.  May  you  never  wish  you'd  lived  your 
lane  like  your  auld  auntie." 

"As  if  single  blessedness  could  ever  be  real  blessed- 
ness ! "  sneered  Enna,  coming  up  just  in  time  to  catch 
the  last  words. 


*y>  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Out  feelings  change  as  we  grow  older,"  returned 
Miss  Stanhope,  in  her  gentle,  refined  tones,  "  and  we 
coine  to  look  upon  quiet  and  freedom  from  care  as  very 
cesirable  things." 

"And  I  venture  to  say  that  old  age  is  not  likely  to 
f.  nd  Mrs.  Percival  so  happy  and  contented  as  is  my  dear 
eld  maiden  aunt,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

"  Yet  we  will  hope  it  may,  papa,"  said  Elsie,  receiv- 
ing Enna's  salutation  with  kindly  warmth. 

But  the  list  of  relatives,  near  connections,  and  intimate 
friends,  is  too  long  for  particular  mention  of  each.  All 
the  Dinsmores  were  there,  both  married  and  single; 
also  most  of  the  Allisons.  Harold  had  not  come  with 
the  others,  nor  had  he  either  accepted  or  rejected  the  in- 
vitation. 

On  first  raising  her  eyes  upon  the  conclusion  of  the 
ceremony,  had  Elsie  really  seen,  far  back  in  the  shadow 
of  the  doorway,  a  face  white,  rigid,  hopeless  with  misery 
as  his  when  last  they  met  and  parted  ?  She  could  not 
tell ;  for  if  really  there,  it  vanished  instantly. 

" Did  Harold  come?  "  she  asked  of  Richard  when  he 
came  to  salute  the  bride  and  groom. 

"  I  think  not ;  I  haven't  seen  him,  I  can't  think 
what's  come  over  the  lad  to  be  so  neglectful  of  his  privi- 
leges." 

Harry  Duncan  was  there,  too,  hanging  upon  the 
smiles  of  merry,  saucy,  blue-eyed  May  Allison ;  while 
her  brother  Richard  seemed  equally  enamored  with  the 
brunette  beauty  and  sprightliness  of  Lottie  King. 

Stiffness  and  constraint  found  no  place  among  the 
guests,  after  the  event  of  the  evening  was  over. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  131 

In  the  great  dining-room  a  sumptuous  banquet  was  laid ; 
and  thither,  after  a  time,  guests  and  entertainers  repaired. 

The  table  sparkled  with  cut-glass,  rare  and  costly  china, 
and  solid  silver  and  gold  plate.  Every  delicacy  from  far 
and  near  was  to  be  found  upon  it ;  nothing  wanting  that 
the  most  fastidious  could  desire,  or  the  most  lavish  ex- 
penditure furnish.  Lovely,  fragrant  flowers  were  there 
also  in  the  utmost  profusion,  decorating  the  board,  fes- 
tooning the  windows  and  doorways,  in  bouquets  upon 
the  mantels  and  antique  stands,  scattered  here  and  there 
through  the  apartment,  filling  the  air  with  their  perfume ; 
while  a  distant  and  unseen  band  discoursed  sweetest 
music  in  soft,  delicious  strains. 

The  weather  was  warmer  far  than  at  that  season  in  our 
northern  clime,  the  outside  air  balmy  and  delightful,  and 
through  the  wide-open  doors  and  windows  glimpses  might 
be  caught  of  the  beautiful  grounds,  lighted  here  and 
there  by  a  star-like  lamp  shining  out  among  the  foliage. 
Silent  and  deserted  they  had  been  all  the  earlier  part  of 
the  evening,  but  now  group  after  group,  as  they  left  the 
bountiful  board,  wandered  into  their  green  alleys  and  gay 
-parterres ;  low,  musical  tones,  light  laughter,  and  merry 
jests  floating  out  upon  the  quiet  night  air  and  waking  the 
echoes  of  the  hills. 

But  the  bride  retired  to  her  own  apartments,  where 
white  satin,  veil,  and  orange  blossoms,  were  quickly  ex- 
changed  for  an  elegant  traveling  dress,  scarcely  less  be- 
coming to  her  rare  beauty. 

She  reappeared  in  the  library,  which  had  not  been 
thrown  open  to  the  guests,  but  where  the  relations  and 
bridesmaids  were  gathered  for  the  final  good-bye. 


133  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Mr.  Dinsmore's  family  carriage,  roomy,  easy-roiling, 
and  softly  cushioned,  stood  at  the  door  upon  the  drive, 
its  spirited  gray  horses  pawing  the  ground  with  impatience 
to  be  gone.  It  would  carry  the  bride  and  groom — and  a 
less  pretentious  vehicle  their  servants — in  two  hours  to  the 
seaport  where  they  were  to  take  the  steamer  for  New 
Orleans ;  for  their  honeymoon  was  to  be  spent  at  Via- 
mede,  Elsie  still  adhering  to  the  plan  of  a  year  ago. 

Her  adieus  were  gayly  given  to  one  and  another,  be- 
ginning with  those  least  dear;  very  very  affectionately 
to  Mrs.  Travilla,  Aunt  Wealthy,  Rose,  and  the  little 
Horace  (the  sleeping  Rosebud  had  already  been  softly 
kissed  in  her  crib). 

Her  idolized  father  only  remained ;  and  now  all  her 
gayety  forsook  her,  all  her  calmness  gave  way,  and 
clinging  about  his  neck,  "Papa,  papa,  oh  papa!"  she 
cried,  with  a  burst  of  tears  and  sobs. 

"  Holy  and  pure  are  the  drops  that  fall, 
When  the  young  bride  goes  from  her  father's  hall ; 
She  goes  unto  love  yet  untried  and  new  — 
She  parts  from  love  which  hath  still  been  true." 

It  was  his  turn  now  to  comfort  her.  "Darling 
daughter,"  he  said,  caressing  her  with  exceeding  tender- 
ness, "we  do  not  part  for  long.  Should  it  please  God 
to  spare  our  lives,  I  shall  have  my  precious  one  in  my 
arms  in  a  few  short  weeks.  Meantime  we  can  have  a  little 
talk  on  paper  every  day.  Shall  we  not?  " 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear,  dear,  precious  father." 

Mr.  Travilla  stood  by  with  a  face  full  of  compassionate 
tenderness.  Putting  one  hand  into  her  father's,  Elsie 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  133 

turned,  gave  him  the  other,  and  together  they  led  her  to 
the  carriage  and  placed  her  in  it.  There  was  a  hearty, 
lingering  hand-shaking  between  the  two  gentlemen.  Mr. 
Travilla  took  his  seat  by  Elsie's  side,  and  amid  a  chorus 
(of  good-byes  they  were  whirled  rapidly  away. 

"Cheer  up,  my  dear,"  said  Rose,  leaning  affection- 
ately on  her  husband's  arm ;  "  it  is  altogether  addition 
and  not  subtraction ;  you  have  not  lost  a  daughter  but 
gained  a  son." 

"These  rooms  tell  a  different  tale,"  he  answered  with 
a  sigh.  "  How  desolate  they  seem.  But  this  is  no  time 
for  the  indulgence  of  sadness.  We  must  return  to  our 
guests,  and  see  that  all  goes  merry  as  a  marriage  bell 
with  them  till  the  last  has  taken  his  departure." 


CHAPTER  THIRTEENTH. 

"  My  bride, 

My  wife,  my  life.     O  we  will  walk  this  world 
Yok'd  in  all  exercise  of  noble  aim 
And  so  through  those  dark  gates  across  the  wild 
That  no  man  knows." 

—TENNYSON'S  PRINCESS. 

ELSIE'S  tears  were  falling  fast,  but  an  arm  as  strong 
and  kind  as  her  father's  stole  quietly  about  her,  a  hand 
as  gentle  and  tender  as  a  woman's  drew  the  weary  head 
to  a  resting-place  on  her  husband's  shoulder,  smoothed 
back  the  hair  from  the  heated  brow,  and  wiped  away  the 
falling  drops. 

"My  wife  !  my  own  precious  little  wife  !  " 

How  the  word,  the  tone,  thrilled  her !  her  very  heart 
leaped  for  joy  through  all  the  pain  of  parting  from  one 
scarcely  less  dear.  "My  husband,"  she  murmured,  low 
and  shyly — it  seemed  so  strange  to  call  him  that,  so  al- 
most bold  and  forward — "  my  dear,  kind  friend,  to  be 
neither  hurt  nor  angry  at  my  foolish  weeping." 

"Not  foolish,  dear  one,  but  perfectly  natural  and 
right.  I  understand  it ;  I  who  know  so  well  what  your 
father  has  been  to  you  these  many  years." 

"  Father  and  mother  both." 

"  Yes ;  tutor,  friend,  companion,  confidant,  every- 
thing. I  know,  dear  little  wife,  that  you  are  sacrificing 
much  for  me,  even  though  the  separation  will  be  bu* 
134 


,    LSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  t& 

partial.  And  how  I  love  you  for  it,  and  for  aJ  you  are 
to  me,  God  only  knows." 

The  tears  had  ceased  to  flow;  love,  joy,  and  i  ankful- 
ness  were  regairing  their  ascendancy  in  the  heart  of  the 
youthful  bride;  she  became  again  calmly,  serenely 
happy. 

The  journey  was  accomplished  without  accident. 
They  were  favored  with  warm,  bright  days,  clear,  starlit 
nights ;  and  on  as  lovely  an  afternoon  as  was  ever  known 
in  that  delicious  clime,  reached  Viamede. 

Great  preparations  had  been  made  for  their  reception; 
banners  were  streaming,  and  flags  flying  from  balconies 
and  tree-tops.  Mr.  Mason  met  them  at  the  pier  with  a 
face  beaming  with  ielight ;  Spriggs  with  a  stiff  bow.  A 
gun  was  fired  and  a  drum  began  to  beat  as  they  stepped 
ashore ;  two  pretty  mulatto  girls  scattered  flowers  in  their 
path,  and  passing  under  a  grand  triumphal  arch  they 
presently  found  themselves  between  two  long  rows  of 
smiling,  bowing  negroes,  whose  fervent  ejaculations : 
"  God  bless  our  dear  young  missus  an'  her  husband  !  " 
"God  bless  you,  massa  an'  missus!"  "Welcome 
'  home  !  "  "  Welcome  to  Viamede  !  "  "  We've  not  for- 
got you,  Miss  Elsie ;  you's  as  welcome  as  de  daylight !  " 
(affected  our  tender-hearted  heroine  almost  to  tears. 

She  had  a  kind  word  for  each,  remembering  all  their 
names,  and  inquiring  after  their  "miseries  "  ;  every  one 
was  permitted  to  take  her  small  white  hand,  many  ot 
them  kissing  it  with  fervent  affection.  They  were  intro- 
duced to  their  "new  master,"  too  (that  was  what  she 
called  him),  and  shaken  hands  with  by  him  in  a  cordial, 
interested  way  that  won  their  hearts  at  «jT>,ce. 


136  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Aunt  1'hillis  was  in  her  glory,  serving  up  a  feast  the 
preparation  of  which  had  exhausted  the  united  skill  of 
both  A  nt  Sally  and  herself.  Their  efforts  were  duly 
appreciated  and  praised,  the  viands  evidently  greatly  en- 
joyed, all  to  their  intense  delight. 

Mr.  Mason  was  invited  to  partake  vdth  the  bride  and 
groom,  and  assigned  the  seat  of  honor  at  Mr.  Trav ilia's 
right  hand.  Elsie  presided  over  the  tea-urn  with  the 
same  gentle  dignity  and  grace  as  wh<;n  her  father  occu-' 
pied  the  chair  at  the  opposite  end  of  the  table,  now  filled 
by  her  husband.  Her  traveling  d|ress  had  been  ex- 
changed for  one  of  simple  white,  aad  there  were  white 
flowers  in  her  hair  and  at  her  throat.  Very  sweet  and 
charming  she  looked,  not  only  in  the  eyes  of  her  hus- 
band, who  seemed  to  find  her  fair  face  a  perpetual  feast, 
but  in  those  of  all  others  who  saw  her. 

On  leaving  the  table  they  repaired  to  the  library, 
where  Mr.  Mason  gave  a  report  of  the  condition  of  the 
people  and  his  work  among  them,  also  assuring  Mrs. 
Tra villa  that  Spriggs  had  carefully  carried  out  her  wishes, 
that  the  prospect  for  the  crops  was  fine,  and  everything 
on  the  estate  in  excellent  order. 

She  expressed  her  gratification,  appealing  to  Mr. 
Travilla  for  his  approval,  which  was  cordially  given ;  said 
she  had  brought  a  little  gift  for  each  of  the  people,  and 
desired  they  should  be  sent  up  to  the  house  about  sunset 
the  next  evening  to  receive  it. 

The  chaplain  promised  that  her  order  should  be  attended 
to,  then  retired,  leaving  husband  and  wife  alone  together. 

"  All  very  satisfactory,  my  little  friend,  was  it  not?  " 
said  Mr.  Travilla. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOO&,  137 

"  Yes,  sir,  very.  I'm  so  glad  to  have  secured  -such  a 
man  as  Mr.  Mason  to  look  after  the  welfare  of  these  poor 
helpless  creatures.  And  you  like  the  house,  Mr. 
Travilla,  do  you  not  ? ' ' 

"  Very  much,  so  far  as  I  have  seen  it.  This  is  a  beau- 
tiful room,  and  the  dining-room  pleased  me  equally  well. '* 

"Ah,  I  am  eager  to  show  you  all !  "  she  cried,  rising 
^quickly  and  laying  her  hand  on  the  bell-rope. 

"Stay,  little  wife,  not  to-night,"  he  said,  "you  are 
too  much  fatigued." 

She  glided  to  the  back  of  the  easy  chair  in  which  he 
sat,  and  leaning  over  him,  said  laughingly,  "I'm  not 
conscious  of  being  fatigued,  but  I  have  promised  to  obey 
and " 

"Hush,  hush!"  he  said  flushing,  "I  meant  to  have 
that  left  out ;  and  did  I  not  tell  you  you  were  to  have 
your  own  way  that  night  and  ever  after  ?  You've  al- 
ready done  enough  of  obeying  to  last  you  a  lifetime. 
But  please  come  round  where  I  can  see  you  better." 
Then,  as  she  stepped  to  his  side,  he  threw  an  arm  about 
her  and  drew  her  to  his  knee. 

"  But  it  wasn't  left  out,"  she  said,  shyly  returning  his 
fond  caress ;  "I  promised  and  must  keep  my  word." 

"  Ah,  but  if  you  can't,  you  can't;  how  will  you  obey 
when  you  get  no  orders?  " 

"  So  you  don't  mean  to  give  me  any?  " 

"  No,  indeed ;  I'm  your  husband,  your  friend,  you* 
protector,  your  lover,  but  not  your  master." 

"Now,  Mr.  Travilla " 

"  I  asked  you  to  call  me  Edward." 

"  But  it  seems  so  disrespectful." 


138  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  More  so  than  to  remind  me  of  the  disparity  of  our 
years  ?  or  than  to  disregard  my  earnest  wish  ?  Then  I 
think  I'll  have  to  require  the  keeping  of  the  promise  in 
this  one  thing.  Say  Edward,  little  wife,  and  never  again 
call  me  Mr.  Travilla  when  we  are  alone." 

"  Well,  Edward,  I  will  try  to  obey ;  and  if  I  use  the 
wrong  word  through  forgetfulness  you  must  please  excuse 
it.  But  ah,  I  remember  papa  would  say  that  was  no 
excuse." 

"  But  I  shall  not  be  so  strict — unless  you  forget  too 
often.  I  have  sometimes  thought  my  friend  too  hard 
with  his  tender-hearted,  sensitive  little  daughter." 

"  Don't  blame  him — my  dear,  dear  father  !  "  she  said, 
low  and  tremulously,  her  face  growing  grave  and  almost 
sad  for  the  moment.  "  He  was  very  strict,  it  is  true,  but 
none  too  strict  in  the  matter  of  requiring  prompt  and 
implicit  obedience,  and  oh,  so  kind,  so  loving,  so  tender, 
so  sympathizing.  I  could,  and  did  go  to  him  with  every 
little  childish  joy  and  sorrow,  every  trouble,  vexation, 
and  perplexity ;  always  sure  of  sympathy,  and  help,  too, 
if  needed.  Never  once  did  he  repulse  me,  or  show  him- 
self an  uninterested  listener. 

"  He  would  take  me  on  his  knee,  hear  all  I  had  to 
say,  claso  me  close  to  his  heart,  caress  me,  call  me  pet 
names,  joy,  sorrow  with,  or  counsel  me  as  the  case  re- 
quired,  and  bid  me  always  come  freely  to  him  so,  assur- 
ing me  that  nothing  which  concerned  me,  one  way  or  an- 
other, was  too  trivial  to  interest  him,  and  he  would  be 
glad  to  know  I  had  not  a  thought  or  feeling  concealed 
from  him.  I  doubt  if  even  you,  my  friend,  have  ever 
known  all  that  papa  has  been  and  is  to  me :  father, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  139 

mother,  everything — but  husband,"  she  added  with  a 
blush  and  smile,  as  her  eyes  met  the  kindly,  tender  look 
in  his. 

"Ah,  that  is  my  blessed  privilege,"  he  whispered, 
drawing  her  closer  to  him.  *'  My  wife,  my  own  precious 
little  wife !  God  keep  me  from  ever  being  less  tender, 
loving,  sympathizing  to  you  than  your  father  has 
been." 

"  I  do  not  fear  it,  my  husband.  Oh,  was  ever  woman 
so  blessed  with  love  as  I !  Daughter,  and  wife !  they 
are  the  sweetest  of  all  names  when  addressed  to  me  by 
papa's  lips  and  yours." 

"I  ought  not  to  find  fault  with  his  training,  seeing 
what  credit  you  do  it.  However,  you  seemed  to  me  as 
near  perfection  as  possible  before  he  began.  Ah,  my  lit- 
tle friend,  for  how  many  years  I  loved  you  with  scarcely 
a  hope  it  would  ever  be  returned  in  the  way  I  wished. 
Indeed  I  can  hardly  yet  believe  fully  in  my  own  happi- 
ness," he  concluded  with  a  joyous  laugh.  The  next  day 
Elsie  had  the  pleasure  of  showing  her  husband  over 
the  house  first,  and  then  the  estate.  Their  life  at 
Viamede,  for  the  few  weeks  of  their  stay,  seemed  much 
like  a  repetition  of  her  visit  there  the  year  before  with 
her  father.  They  took  the  same  rides,  walks  and  drives ; 
glided  over  the  clear  waters  of  the  bayou  in  the  same 
boat ;  sought  out  each  spot  of  beauty  or  interest  he  had 
shown  her ;  were,  if  possible,  even  more  constantly  to- 
gether, reading,  writing,  or  engaged  with  music  in  library 
or  drawing-room,  seated  side  by  side  on  veranda  or  lawn 
enjoying  conversation,  book  or  periodical ;  or,  it  might 
be,  silently  musing,  hand  in  hand,  by  the  soft  moonlight 


240  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

that  lent  such  a  witchery  to  the  lovely  landscape.  A 
pleasanter  honeymoon  could  hardly  have  been  devised. 

In  one  thing,  however,  they  were  disappointed  :  they 
had  hoped  to  be  left  entirely  to  each  other ;  but  it  was 
impossible  to  conceal  their  presence  at  Viamede  from  the 
hospitable  neighbors,  and  calls  and  invitations  had  to  be 
received  and  returned.  But,  both  being  eminently  fitted 
to  shine  in  society,  and  each  proud  to  display  the  other, 
this  state  of  things  did  not,  after  all,  so  greatly  interfere 
with  their  enjoyment. 

In  fact,  so  delightful  did  they  find  their  life  in  that 
lovely  country  that  they  lingered  week  after  week  till 
nearly  six  had  slipped  away,  and  letters  from  home  be- 
gan to  be  urgent  for  their  return.  Mr.  Dinsmore  was 
wearying  for  his  daughter,  Mrs.  Travilla  for  her  son, 
and  scarcely  less  for  the  daughter  so  long  vainly  hoped  for. 

Every  day  a  servant  was  despatched  to  the  nearest 
post-office  with  their  mail,  generally  returning  as  full 
handed  as  he  went.  Mr.  Dinsmore's  letters  were,  as  he 
had  promised,  daily,  and  never  left  unanswered.  The 
old  love  was  not,  could  not  be  forgotten  in  the  new.  Elsie 
was  no  less  a  daughter  because  she  had  become  a  wife ; 
but  Edward  was  always  a  sharer  in  her  enjoyment,  and 
she  in  .his. 

They  were  sitting  on  the  veranda  one  morning  when 
Uncle  Ben  rode  up  and  handed  the  mail-box  to  his  mas- 
ter. Mr.  Travilla  hastened  to  open  it,  gave  Elsie  her 
letters  and  began  the  perusal  of  his  own. 

A  softly  breathed  sigh  called  his  attention  to  her. 

"What  is  it,  little  wife?"  he  asked;  "your  face  is 
grave  almost  to  sadness." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  141 

"I  was  thinking,"  she  answered,  with  her  eye  still 
upon  her  father's  letter  open  in  her  hand.  "  Papa 
says,"  and  she  read  aloud  from  the  sheet,  "  How  long 
you  are  lingering  in  Viamede.  When  will  you  return  ? 
Tell  Travilla  I  am  longing  for  a  sight  of  the  dear  face  his 
eyes  are  feasting  upon,  and  he  must  remember  his  prom- 
se  not  to  part  us. 

"  I  am  writing  in  your  boudoir.  I  have  been  think- 
ing of  the  time  (it  seems  but  yesterday)  when  I  had  you 
.lere  a  little  girl,  sitting  on  my  knee  reciting  your  lessons 
or  listening  with  almost  rapt  attention  to  my  remarks  and 
explanations.  Never  before  had  tutor  so  dear,  sweet,  and 
interesting  a  scholar  !  " 

"  A  fond  father's  partiality,"  she  remarked,  looking  up 
with  a  smile  and  blush.  "  But  never,  I  am  sure,  was 
such  another  tutor ;  his  lucid  explanations,  intense  in- 
terest in  the  subject  and  his  pupil,  apt  illustrations,  and 
fund  of  information  constantly  opened  up  to  me,  made 
my  lessons  a  delight." 

"  He  has  made  you  wonderfully  well  informed  and 
thorough,"  said  her  husband. 

She  colored  with  pleasure. 

"  Such  words  are  very  sweet,  coming  from  your  lips. 
You  appreciate  papa." 

"  Yes,  indeed,  and  his  daughter  too,  I  hope,"  he 
answered,  smiling  fondly  upon  her.  "Yes,  your 
father  and  I  have  been  like  brothers  since  we  were 
little  fellows.  It  seems  absurd  to  think  of  him  in  any 
other  relation." 

"But  what  about  going  home?  isn't  it  time,  as  papa 
thinks?" 


142  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"That  you  shall  decide,  ma  chere ;  our  life  here  has 
been  very  delightful  to  me,  and  to  you  also,  I  hope." 

"Very,  if  we  had  your  mother  and  papa  and  mamma 
and  the  children  here,  I  should  like  to  stay  all  winter. 
But  as  it  is  I  think  we  ought  to  return  soon."  He 
assented,  and  after  a  little  more  consultation  they  decided 
ito  go  soon — not  later  than  the  rm..~le  of  the  next  week, 
but  the  day  was  not  set. 


CHAPTER  FOURTEENTH. 

««The  low  reeds  bent  by  the  streamlet's  side, 
And  hills  to; ;    r  thunder  peal  replied  ; 
The  lightning 'burst  on  its  fearful  way 
While  the  heavens  were  lit  in  its  red  array." 

— WILLIS  GAYLORD  CLARK.    • 

•*  Thither,  full  fraught  with  mischievous  revenge 
Accurs'd,  and  in  a  cursed  hour  he  hies." 

— MILTON'S  PARADISE  LOST. 

THEY  were  alone  that  evening,  and  retired  earlier  than 
usual.  They  had  been  quietly  sleeping  for  some  time 
when  Elsie  was  wakened  by  a  sudden  gust  of  wind  that 
swept  round  the  house,  rattling  doors  and  windows; 
then  followed  the  roll  and  crash  of  thunder,  peal  on  peal, 
accompanied  with  vivid  flashes  of  lightning. 

Elsie  was  not  timid  in  regard  to  thunder  and  lightning ; 
she  knew  so  well  that  they  were  entirely  under  the  con- 
trol of  her  Father,  without  whom  not  a  hair  of  her  head 
could  perish ;  she  lay  listening  to  the  war  of  the  elements, 
thinking  of  the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "The  clouds 
poured  out  water :  the  skies  sent  out  a  sound  ;  Thine  ar- 
rows also  went  abroad.  The  voice  of  Thy  thunder  was 
in  the  heaven ;  the  lightnings  lightened  the  world,  the 
earth  trembled  and  shook." 

But  another  sound  startled  her.  Surely  she  heard 
some  stealthy  step  on  the  veranda  upon  which  the  win- 


144  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

dows  of  the  room  opened  (long  windows  reaching  from 
the  floor  almost  to  the  ceiling),  and  then  a  hand  at  work 
with  the  fastenings  of  the  shutters  of  the  one  farthest 
from  the  bed. 

Her  husband  lay  sleeping  by  her  side.  She  half  raised 
herself  in  the  bed,  put  her  lips  to  his  ear,  and  shaking 
him  slightly,  whispered,  "Edward,  some  one  is  trying 
to  get  in  at  the  window  !  " 

He  was  wide-awake  in  an  instant,  raised  himself  and 
while  listening  intently  took  a  loaded  revolver  from  un- 
der his  pillow  and  cocked  it  ready  for  use. 

"Lie  down,  darling,"  he  whispered;  "it  will  be 
safer,  and  should  the  villain  get  in,  this  will  soon  settle 
him,  I  think." 

"  Don't  kill  him,  if  you  can  save  yourself  without," 
she  answered,  in  the  same  low  tone  and  with  a  shudder. 

"No;  if  I  could  see,  I  should  aim  for  his  right 
arm." 

A  moment  of  silent  waiting,  the  slight  sound  of  the 
burglar's  tool  faintly  heard  amid  the  noise  of  the  storm, 
then  the  shutter  flew  open,  a  man  stepped  in ;  at  that  in- 
stant a  vivid  flash  of  lightning  showed  the  three  to  each 
other,  and  the  men  fired  simultaneously. 

A  heavy,  rolling  crash  of  thunder  followed  close  upon 
'the  sharp  crack  of  the  revolvers;  the  robber's  pistol  fell 
with  a  loud  thump  upon  the  floor  and  he  turned  and  fled 
along  the  veranda,  this  time  moving  with  more  haste 
than  caution.  They  distinctly  heard  the  flying  footsteps. 

"  I  must  have  hit  him,"  said  Mr.  Tra villa.  "  Dearest, 
you  are  not  hurt  ? ' ' 

"No,  no;  but  you?" 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


'45 


"Have  escaped  also,  thank  God,"  he  added,  with 
earnest  solemnity. 

Elsie,  springing  to  the  bell-rope,  sent  peal  after  peal 
resounding  through  the  house.  "He  must  be  pursued, 
if  possible  !  "  she  cried;  "for  oh,  Edward,  your  life  is' 
in  danger  as  long  as  he  is  at  large.  You  recognized 
him?" 

"  Yes,  Tom  Jackson  ;  I  thought  him  safe  in  prison  at 
the  North ;  but  probably  he  has  been  bailed  out ;  per- 
haps by  one  of  his  own  gang ;  for  so  are  the  ends  of 
justice  often  defeated." 

He  was  hurrying  on  his  clothes  as  he  spoke.  Elsie 
had  hastily  donned  dressing-gown  and  slippers,  and  now 
struck  a  light. 

Steps  and  voices  were  heard  in  the  hall  without,  while 
Aunt  Chloe  coming  in  from  the  other  side,  asked  in  tones 
tremulous  with  affright,  "What's  de  matter?  what's  de 
matter,  darlin'?  is  you  hurted?  " 

"  No,  mammy ;  but  there  was  a  burglar  here  a  mo- 
ment since,"  said  Elsie.  "He  and  Mr.  Tra villa  fired  at 
each  other,  and  he  must  be  pursued  instantly.  Send 
Uncle  Joe  to  rouse  Mr.  Spriggs  and  the  boys,  and  go 
after  him  with  all  speed." 

Meantime  Mr.  Mason  was  knocking  at  the  door  open- 
ing into  the  hall,  asking  what  was  wrong  and  offering  his 
services;  a  number  of  negro  men's  voices  adding, 
"Massa  and  missus,  we's  all  heyah  and  ready  to  fight 
for  ye." 

Mr.  Travilla  opened  the  door,  briefly  explained  what 
had  happened,  and  repeated  Elsie's  order  for  an  imme- 
diate and  hot  pursuit. 


146  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  I  myself  will  head  it,"  he  was  adding,  when  she  in- 
terposed. 

"  No,  no,  no,  my  husband,  surely  you  will  not  think 
of  it ;  he  may  kill  you  yet.  Or  he  might  return  from 
another  direction,  and  what  could  I  do  with  only  the 
women  to  help  me?  Oh,  Edward,  don't  go!  don't 
'leave  me !  "  And  she  clung  to  him  trembling  and  with 
tears  in  the  soft,  entreating  eyes. 

"  No,  dearest,  you  are  right.  I  will  stay  here  to  pro- 
tect you,  and  Spriggs  may  lead  the  boys,"  he  answered, 
throwing  an  arm  about  her.  "  I  think  I  wounded  the 
fellow,"  he  added  to  Mr.  Mason.  "Here,  Aunt  Chloe, 
bring  the  light  nearer." 

Yes,  there  lay  a  heavy  revolver,  and  beside  it  a  pool 
of  blood  on  the  carpet  where  the  villain  had  stood  ;  and 
there  was  a  bloody  trail  all  along  the  veranda  where  he 
had  run,  and  on  the  railing  and  pillar  by  which  he  had 
swung  himself  to  the  ground ;  indeed,  they  could  track 
him  by  it  for  some  distance  over  the  lawn,  where  the 
trees  kept  the  ground  partially  dry ;  but  beyond  that  the 
rain  coming  down  in  sheets,  had  helped  the  fugitive  by 
washing  away  the  telltale  stains. 

Elsie  shuddering  and  turning  pale  and  faint  at  the 
horrible  sight,  ordered  an  immediate  and  thorough 
cleansing  of  both  carpet  and  veranda. 

"Dere's  hot  water  in  de  kitchen,"  said  Aunt  Phillis. 
"  You,  Sal  an'  Bet,  hurry  up  yah  wid  a  big  basin  full, 
an'  soap  an'  sand  an'  house-cloths.  Glad  'nuff  dat 
massa  shot  dat  ole  debbil,  but  Miss  Elsie's  house  not  to 
be  defiled  wid  his  dirty  blood." 

"  Cold  watah  fust,  Aunt  Phillis,"  interposed  Chloe^ 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  147 

*co)d  watah  fust  to  take  out  blood -stain,  den  de  hot 
after  dat." 

"Mammy  knows;  do  as  she  directs,"  said  Elsie, 
hastily  retreating  into  her  dressing-room. 

"  My  darling,  this  has  been  too  much  for  you,"  her 
husband  said  tenderly,  helping  her  to  lie  down  on  a  sofa. 

Chloe  came  hurrying  in  with  a  tumbler  of  cold  water 
iu  one  hand,  a  bottle  of  smelling  salts  in  the  other,  her 
dusky  face  full  of  concern. 

Mr.  Travilla  took  the  articles  from  her.  "That  is 
right,  but  I  will  attend  to  your  mistress,"  he  said  in  a 
kindly  tone ;  "  and  do  you  go  and  prepare  a  bed  for  her 
in  one  of  the  rooms  on  the  other  side  of  the  hall." 

" It  is  hardly  worth  while,  dear,"  said  Elsie ;  "I don't 
think  I  can  sleep  again  to-night." 

"Yet  perhaps  you  may;  it  is  only  two  o'clock,"  he 
said,  as  the  timepiece  on  the  mantle  struck  the  hour, 
"  and  at  least  you  may  rest  a  little  better  than  you  could 
here." 

"And  perhaps  you  may  sleep.  Yes,  mammy,  get  the 
bed  ready  as  soon  as  you  can." 

"My  darling,  how  pale  you  are  !  "  Mr.  Travilla  said 
with  concern,  as  he  knelt  by  her  side,  applying  the  re- 
storatives. "Do  not  be  alarmed;  I  am  quite  sure  the 
man's  right  arm  is  disabled,  and  therefore  the  danger  is 
past,  for  the  present  at  least." 

She  put  her  arm  about  his  neck  and  relieved  her  full 
heart  with  a  burst  of  tears.  "Pray,  praise,"  she  whis- 
pered; "oh,  thank  the  Lord  for  your  narrow  escape; 
the  ball  must  have  passed  very  near  your  head ;  I  heard 
it  whiz  over  mine  and  strike  the  opposite  wall." 


148  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Yes,  it  just  grazed  my  hair  and  carried  away  a  lock, 
I  think.  Yes,  let  us  thank  the  Lord."  And  he  poured 
out  a  short  but  fervent  thanksgiving,  to  every  word  of 
which  her  heart  said  "Amen  !  " 

"Yes,  there  is  a  lock  gone,  sure  enough,"  she  said, 
stroking  his  hair  caressingly  as  he  bent  over  her.  "Ah, 
if  we  had  not  lingered  so  long  here,  this  would  not  have 
happened." 

"Not  here,  but  elsewhere  perhaps." 

"That  is  true,  and  no  doubt  all  has  been  ordered  for 
the  best." 

Aunt  Chloe  presently  returned,  with  the  announcement 
that  the  bed  was  ready ;  and  they  retired  for  the  second 
time,  leaving  the  house  in  the  care  of  Uncle  Joe  and  the 
women  servants. 

It  was  some  time  before  Elsie  could  compose  herself  to 
sleep,  but  near  daybreak  she  fell  into  a  deep  slumber  that 
lasted  until  long  past  the  usual  breakfast  hour.  Mr.  Tra- 
villa  slept  late  also,  while  the  vigilant  Aunts  Chloe  and 
Phillis  and  Uncle  Joe  took  care  that  no  noise  should  be 
made,  no  intruder  allowed  access  to  their  vicinity  to  dis- 
turb them. 

The  first  news  that  greeted  them  on  leaving  their  room, 
was  of  the  failure  of  the  pursuit  after  the  burglar.  He 
had  managed  to  elude  the  search,  and  to  their  chagrin 
Spriggs  and  his  party  had  been  obliged  to  return  empty- 
handed.  The  servants  were  the  first  to  tell  the  tale,  then 
Spriggs  came  in  with  a  fuller  report. 

"The  scoundrel!"  he  growled;  "how  he  contrived 
to  do  it  I  can't  tell.  If  we'd  had  hounds,  he  couldn't.  We've 
none  on  the  place,  but  if  you  say  so,  I'll  borrow " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  149 

"No,  no !  Mr.  Travilla,  you  will  not  allow  it?''  cried 
Elsie,  turning  an  entreating  look  upon  him. 

"  No,  Spriggs,  the  man  must  be  greatly  weakened  by 
the  loss  of  blood,  and,  unable  to  defend  himself,  might 
be  torn  to  pieces  by  them  before  you  could  prevent  it." 

"Small  loss  to  the  rest  of  the  world  if  he  was," 
grumbled  the  overseer. 

"  Yes,  but  I  wouldn't  have  him  die  such  a  death  as 
that ;  or  hurried  into  eternity  without  a  moment  for  re- 
pentance." 

"But  might  it  not  be  well  to  have  another  search?" 
suggested  Elsie.  "  He  had  better  be  given  up  to  justice, 
even  for  his  own  good,  than  die  in  the  woods  of  weakness 
and  starvation." 

"  Hands  are  all  so  busy  with  the  sugar-cane  just  now, 
ma'am,  that  I  don't  see  how  they  could  be  spared," 
answered  Spriggs.  "And  tell  you  what,  ma'am  " — as  if 
struck  with  a  sudden  thought — "  the  rascal  must  have  a 
confederate  that's  helped  him  off." 

"Most  likely,"  said  Mr.  Travilla.  "Indeed,  I  think 
it  must  be  so.  And  you  need  give  yourself  no  further 
inxiety  about  him,  my  dear." 


CHAPTER  FIFTEENTH. 

««  Revenge  at  first  though  sweet, 
Bitter  ere  long,  back  on  itself  recoils." 

—MILTON'S  PARADISE  LOST. 
\ 

AT  the  instant  of  discharging  his  revolver,  Jackson  felt 
a  sharp  stinging  pain  in  his  right  arm,  and  it  dropped 
useless  at  his  side.  He  hoped  he  had  killed  both  Mr. 
Travilla  and  Elsie;  but,  an  arrant  coward  and  thus  dis- 
abled, did  not  dare  to  remain  a  moment  to  learn  with 
certainty  the  effect  of  his  shot,  but  rushing  along  the  ve- 
randa, threw  himself  over  the  railing,  and  sliding  down 
a  pillar,  by  the  aid  of  the  one  hand,  and  with  no  little 
pain  and  difficulty,  made  off  with  all  speed  across  the 
lawn. 

But  he  was  bleeding  at  so  fearful  a  rate  that  he  found 
himself  compelled  to  pause  long  enough  to  improvise  a 
tourniquet  by  knotting  his  handkerchief  above  the 
wound,  tying  it  as  tightly  as  he  could  with  the  left  hand 
aided  by  his  teeth.  He  stooped  and  felt  on  the  ground 
in  the  darkness  and  rain,  for  a  stick,  by  means  of  which 
to  tighten  it  still  more;  for  the  bleeding,  though  con- 
siderably checked,  was  by  no  means  stanched.  But 
sticks,  stones,  and  every  kind  of  litter,  had  long  been 
banished  thence  ;  his  ringers  came  in  contact  with  noth- 
ing but  the  smooth,  velvety  turf,  and  with  a  muttered 
curse,  he  rose  and  fled  again ;  for  the  flashing  of  lights, 
the  loud  ringing  of  a  bell,  peal  after  peal,  and  sounds  of 
150 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  151 

fanning  feet  and  many  voices  in  high  excited  tones,  told 
him  there  was  danger  of  a  quick  and  hot  pursuit. 

Clearing  the  lawn,  he  presently  struck  into  a  bridle- 
path that  led  to  the  woods.  Here  he  again  paused  to 
search  for  the  much-needed  stick,  found  one  suited  to 
his  purpose,  and  by  its  aid  succeeded  in  decreasing  still 
more  the  drain  upon  his  life  current ;  yet  could  not  stop 
the  flow  entirely. 

But  sounds  of  pursuit  began  to  be  heard  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  he  hastened  on  again,  panting  with  weakness, 
pain  and  affright.  Leaving  the  path,  he  plunged  deeper 
into  the  woods,  ran  for  some  distance  along  the  edge  of  a 
swamp,  and  leaping  in  up  to  his  knees  in  mud  and  water, 
doubled  on  his  track,  then  turned  again,  and  penetrating 
farther  and  farther  into  the  depths  of  the  morass,  finally 
climbed  a  tree,  groaning  with  the  pain  the  effort  cost  him, 
and  concealed  himself  among  the  branches. 

His  pursuers  came  up  to  the  spot  where  he  had  made 
his  plunge  into  the  water ;  here  they  paused,  evidently  at 
fault.  He  could  hear  the  sound  of  their  footsteps  and 
voices,  and  judge  of  their  movements  by  the  gleam  of 
the  torches  many  of  them  carried. 

Some  now  took  one  direction,  some  another,  and  he 
perceived  with  joy  that  his  stratagem  had  been  at  least 
partially  successful.  One  party,  however,  soon  followed 
him  into  the  swamp.  He  could  hear  Spriggs  urging 
them  on  and  anathematizing  him  as  "a  scoundrel,  rob- 
ber, burglar,  murderer,  who  ought  to  be  swung  up  to  the 
nearest  tree." 

Every  thicket  was  undergoing  a  thorough  search, 
heads  were  thrown  back  and  torches  bjld  high  that  eager 


152  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

blacks  eyes  might  scan  the  tree-tops,  and  Jackson  began 
to  grow  sick  with  the  almost  certainty  of  being  taken,  as 
several  stout  negroes  drew  nearer  and  nearer  his  chosen 
hiding-place. 

He  uttered  a  low,  breathed  imprecation  upon  his  use- 
less right  arm,  and  the  man  whose  sure  aim  had  made  it 
so.  "But  for  you,"  he  muttered,  grinding  his  teeth, 
"I'd  sell  my  life  dear." 

But  the  rain,  which  had  slackened  for  a  time,  again 
poured  down  in  torrents,  the  torches  sputtered  and  went 
out,  and  the  pursuers  turned  back  in  haste  to  gain  the 
firmer  soil,  where  less  danger  was  to  be  apprehended 
from  alligators,  panthers,  and  poisonous  reptiles. 

The  search  was  kept  up  for  some  time  longer,  with  no 
light  but  an  occasional  flash  from  the  skies ;  but  finally 
abandoned,  as  we  have  seen. 

Jackson  passed  several  hours  most  uncomfortably  and 
painfully  on  his  elevated  perch,  quaking  with  fear  of 
both  man  and  reptile,  not  daring  to  come  down  or  to 
sleep  in  his  precarious  position,  or  able  to  do  so  for  the 
pain  of  his  wound,  and  growing  hour  by  hour  weaker 
from  the  bleeding  which  it  was  impossible  to  check  en 
tirely. 

Then  his  mind  was  in  a  state  of  great  disturbance^ 
His  wound  must  be  dressed,  and  that  speedily ;  yet  how 
could  it  be  accomplished  without  imperiling  life  and  lib- 
erty? Perhaps  he  had  now  two  new  murders  on  his 
hands ;  he  did  not  know,  but  he  had  at  least  attempted 
to  take  life,  and  the  story  would  fly  on  the  wings  of  the 
wind ;  such  stories  always  did. 

He  had  been  lurking  about  the  neighborhood  for  days, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  153 

and  had  learned  that  Dr.  Balis,  an  excellent  physician 
and  surgeon,  lived  on  a  plantation,  some  two  or  three 
miles  eastward  from  Viamede.  He  must  contrive  a 
plausible  story,  and  go  to  him ;  at  break  of  day,  before 
the  news  of  the  attack  on  Viamede  would  be  likely  to 
reach  him.  It  would  be  a  risk,  but  what  better  could  be 
done  ?  He  might  succeed  in  quieting  the  doctor's  sus- 
picions, and  yet  make  good  his  escape  from  the  vicinity. 

The  storm  had  spent  itself  before  the  break  of  day, 
and  descending  from  his  perch  with  the  first  faint  rays  of 
light  that  penetrated  the  gloomy  recesses  of  the  swamp, 
he  made  his  way  out  of  it,  slowly  and  toilsomely,  with 
weary,  aching  limbs,  suffering  intensely  from  the  gnaw- 
ings  of  hunger  and  thirst,  the  pain  of  his  injury,  and 
the  fear  of  being  overtaken  by  the  avengers  of  his  inno- 
cent victims.  Truly,  as  the  Bible  tells  us,  "  the  way  of 
transgressors  is  hard." 

The  sun  was  more  than  an  hour  high  when  Dr.  Balis, 
ready  to  start  upon  his  morning  round,  and  pacing 
thoughtfully  to  and  fro  upon  the  veranda  of  his  dwelling 
while  waiting  for  his  horse,  saw  a  miserable  looking  object 
coming  up  the  avenue :  a  man  almost  covered  from  head 
to  foot  with  blood  and  mud  ;  a  white  handkerchief,  also 
both  bloody  and  muddy,  knotted  around  the  right  arm, 
which  hung  apparently  useless  at  his  side.  The  man 
reeled  as  he  walked,  either  from  intoxication  or  weakness 
and  fatigue. 

The  doctor  judged  the  latter,  and  called  to  a  servant, 
"Nap,  go  and  help  that  man  into  the  office."  Then 
hurrying  thither  himself,  got  out  lint,  bandages,  instru- 
ments, whatever  might  be  needed  for  the  dressing  of  a 


154  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

wound.  With  the  assistance  of  Nap's  strong  arm,  the 
man  tottered  in,  then  sank,  half  fainting,  into  a  chair. 

"  A  glass  ot  wine,  Nap,  quick  !  "  cried  the  doctor, 
sprinkling  some  water  in  his  patient's  face,  and  applying 
ammonia  to  his  nostrils. 

He  revived  sufficiently  to  swallow  with  eager  avidky 
the  wine  Nap  held  to  his  lips. 

"Food,  for  the  love  of  God,"  he  gasped.  "I'm 
starving ! " 

"  Bread,  meat,  coffee,  anything  that  is  on  the  table, 
Nap,"  said  his  master;  "and  don't  let  the  grass  grow 
under  your  feet." 

Then  to  the  stranger,  and  taking  gentle  hold  of  the 
wounded  limb :  "  But  you  need  this  flow  of  blood 
stanched  more  than  anything  else.  You  came  to  *ne 
for  surgical  aid,  of  course.  Pistol-shot  wound,  eh  ?  and 
a  bad  one  at  that." 

«Yes,  I " 

"  Never  mind ;  I'll  hear  your  story  after  your  arm's 
dressed  and  you've  had  your  breakfast.  You  haven't 
strength  for  talk  just  now." 

Dr.  Balis  had  his  own  suspicions  as  he  ripped  up  the 
coat  sleeve,  bared  the  swollen  limb,  and  carefully  dressed 
the  wound ;  but  kept  them  to  himself.  The  stranger's 
clothes,  though  much  soiled  and  torn  in  several  places  by- 
contact  with  thorns  and  briers,  were  of  good  material, 
fashionable  cut,  and  not  old  or  worn ;  his  manners  were 
gentlemanly,  and  his  speech  was  that  of  an  educated 
man.  But  all  this  was  no  proof  that  he  was  not  a  vil- 
lain. 

"  Is  that  mortification?"  asked  the  sufferer,  looking 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  155 

ruefully  at  the  black,  swollen  hand  and  fore-arm,  and 
wincing  under  the  doctor's  touch  as  he  took  up  the  artery 
and  tied  it. 

"No,  no  ;  only  the  stagnation  of  the  blood." 
"  Will  the  limb  ever  be  good  for  anything  again  ?  " 
"  Oh  yes  ;  neither  the  bone  nor  nerve  has  suffered  in- 
jury ;  the  ball   has  glanced  from  the  bone,  passed  under 
the  nerve,  and  cut  the  humeral  artery.     Your  tourniquet 
has  saved  you  from  bleeding  to  death.     'Tis  well  you 
knew  enough  to  apply  it.     The  flesh  is  much  torn  where 
the  ball  passed  out ;  but  that  will  heal  in  time." 

The  doctor's  task  was  done.  Nap  had  set  a  plate  of 
food  within  reach  of  the  stranger's  left  hand,  and  he  was 
devouring  it  like  a  hungry  wolf. 

"  Now,  sir,"  said  the  good  doctor,  when  the  meal  was 
finished,  "  I  should  like  to  hear  how  you  came  by  that 
ugly  wound.  I  can't  deny  that  things  look  suspicious. 
I  know  everybody,  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor,  for 
miles  in  every  direction,  and  so  need  no  proof  that  you 
do  not  belong  to  the  neighborhood." 

"  No ;  a  party  of  us,  from  New  Orleans  last,  came  out 
to  visit  this  beautiful  region.  We  were  roaming  through 
a  forest  yesterday,  looking  for  game,  when  I  somehow 
got  separated  from  the  rest,  lost  my  way,  darkness  came 
on,  and  wondering  hither  and  thither  in  the  vain  effort  to 
find  my  comrades,  tumbling  over  logs  and  fallen  trees, 
scratched  and  torn  by  brambles,  almost  eaten  up  by 
mosquitos,  I  thought  I  was  having  a  dreadful  time  of  it. 
But  worse  was  to  come ;  for  I  presently  found  myself  in 
a  swamp  up  to  my  knees  in  mud  and  water,  and  in  the 
pitchy  darkness  tumbling  over  another  fallen  tree,  struck 


I$6  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

my  revolver,  which  I  had  foolishly  been  carrying  in  my 
coat  pocket  :  it  went  off  and  shot  me  in  the  arm,  as  you 
see.  That  must  have  been  early  in  the  night ;  and  what 
with  loss  of  blood,  pain,  fatigue,  and  long  fasting,  I  had 
but  little  strength  when  daylight  came  and  I  could  see  to 
get  out  of  swamp  and  woods,  and  come  on  here." 

The  doctor  listened  in  silence,  his  face  telling  nothing 
of  his  thoughts. 

"  A  bad  business,"  he  said,  rising  and  beginning  to 
draw  on  his  gloves.  "  You  are  not  fit  to  travel,  but  are 
welcome  to  stay  here  for  the  present  ;  had  better  lie  down 
on  the  sofa  there  and  take  a  nap  while  I  am  away  visiting 
my  patients.  Nap,  clean  the  mud  and  blood  from  the 
gentleman's  clothes ;  take  his  boots  out  and  clean  them 
too;  and  see  that  he  doesn't  want  for  attention  while  I 
am  gone.  Good -morning,  sir;  make  yourself  at  home." 
And  the  doctor  walked  out,  giving  Nap  a  slight  sign  to 
follow  him. 

"  Nap,"  he  said,  when  they  were  out  of  ear-shot  of  the 
stranger,  "  watch  that  man  and  keep  him  here  if  possible, 
till  I  come  back." 

"Yes,  sah." 

Nap  went  back  into  the  office  while  the  doctor  mounted 
and  rode  away. 

"Humph,"  he  said,  half  aloud,  as  he  cantered  briskly 
along,  "took  me  for  a  fool,  did  he?  thought  I  couldn't 
tell  where  the  shot  went  in  and  where  it  came  out,  or 
where  it  would  go  in  or  out  if  caused  in  that  way.  No, 
sir,  you  never  gave  yourself  that  wound ;  but  the  ques- 
tion is  who  did  ?  and  what  for  ?  have  you  been  house- 
breaking  or  some  other  mischief?  "  Dr.  Balis  was  travel- 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  157 

ing  in  the  direction  of  Viamede,  intending  to  call  there 
too,  but  having  several  patients  to  visit  on  the  way,  did 
not  arrive  until  the  late  breakfast  of  its  master  and  mis- 
tress was  over. 

They  were  seated  together  on  the  veranda,  her  hand; 
in  his,  the  other  arm  thrown  lightly  about  her  waist,  talk- 
ing earnestly,  and  so  engrossed  with  each  other  and  the 
subject  of  their  conversation,  that  they  did  not  at  first  ob- 
serve the  doctor's  approach. 

Uncle  Joe  was  at  work  on  the  lawn,  clearing  away  the 
leaves  and  twigs  blown  down  by  the  storm. 

"  Mornin',  Massa  Doctah ;  did  you  heyah  de  news, 
sah?"  he  said,  pulling  off  his  hat  and  making  a  pro- 
found obeisance,  as  he  stepped  forward  to  take  the  vis- 
itor's horse. 

"  No,  uncle,  what  is  it  ?  " 

"Burglah,  sir,  burglah  broke  in  de  house  las'  night, 
an'  fire  he  revolvah  at  massa  an'  Miss  Elsie.  Miss  dem, 
dough,  an'  got  shot  hisself." 

"  Possible !  "  cried  the  doctor  in  great  excitement, 
springing  from  the  saddle  and  hurrying  up  the  steps  of 
the  veranda. 

"Ah,  doctor,  good-morning.  Glad  to  see  you,  sir," 
said  Mr.  Travilla,  rising  to  give  the  physician  a  hearty 
shake  of  the  hand. 

"  Thank  you,  sir.  How  are  you  after  your  fright  ? 
Mrs.  Travilla,  you  are  looking  a  little  pale;  and  no 
wonder.  Uncle  Joe  tells  me  you  had  a  visit  from  a 
burglar  last  night?" 

"A  murderer,  sir ;  one  whose  object  was  to  take  my 
husband's  life,"  Elsie  answered  with  a  shudder,  and  in 


158  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

low,  tremulous  tones,  leaning  on  Edward's  arm  and  gaz- 
ing into  his  face  with  eyes  swimming  with  tears  of  love 
and  gratitude. 

"  My  wife's  also,  I  fear,"  Mr.  Travilla  said  with  emo- 
tion, fondly  stroking  her  sunny  hair. 

"Indeed  !  why  this  is  worse  and  worse  !  But  he  did 
not  succeed  in  wounding  either  of  you?" 

"No;  his  ball  passed  over  our  heads,  grazing  mine  so 
closely  as  to  cut  off  a  lock  of  my  hair.  But  I  wounded 
him,  must  have  cut  an  artery,  I  think,  from  the  bloody 
trail  he  left  behind  him." 

"An  artery?"  cried  the  doctor,  growing  more  and 
more  excited;  "where?  do  you  know  where  your  ball 
struck?" 

"  A  flash  of  lightning  showed  us  to  each  other  and  we 
fired  simultaneously,  I  aiming  for  his  right  arm.  I  do 
not  often  miss  my  aim  :  we  heard  his  revolver  fall  to  the 
floor  and  he  fled  instantly,  leaving  it  and  a  trail  of  blood 
before  him." 

"  You  had  him  pursued  promptly,  of  course  ?  " 

"Yes;  but  they  did  not  find  him.  I  expected  to  see 
them  return  with  his  corpse,  thinking  he  must  bleed  to 
death  in  a  very  short  time.  But  I  presume  he  had  an 
accomplice  who  was  able  to  stanch  the  flow  of  blood  and 
carry  him  away." 

"  No,  I  don't  think  he  had ;  and  if  I'm  not  greatly 
mistaken  I  dressed  his  wound  in  my  office  this  morning, 
and  left  him  there  in  charge  of  my  boy  Nap,  bidding 
him  keep  the  fellow  there,  if  possible,  till  I  came  back. 
I'd  better  return  at  once,  lest  he  should  make  his  escape. 
Do  you  know  the  man?  and  can  you  describe  him?" 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  159 

"I  do;  I  can,"  replied  Mr.  Travilla.  "  But,  my  lit- 
tle wife,  how  you  are  trembling !  Sit  down  here, 
dearest,  and  lean  on  me,"  leading  her  to  a  sofa.  "  And 
doctor,  take  that  chair. 

"The  man's  name  is  Tom  Jackson;  he  is  a  noted 
gambler  and  forger,  has  been  convicted  of  manslaughter 
and  other  crimes,  sent  to  the  penitentiary  and  pardoned 
out.  He  hates  me  because  I  have  exposed  his  evil  deeds, 
and  prevented  the  carrying  out  of  some  of  his  wicked 
designs.  He  has  before  this  threatened  both  our  lives. 
He  is  about  your  height  and  build,  doctor ;  can  assume 
the  manners  and  speech  of  a  gentleman ;  has  dark  hair, 
eyes,  and  whiskers,  regular  features,  and  but  for  a  sinister 
look  would  be  very  handsome." 

"It's  he  and  no  mistake!  "  cried  Dr.  Balis,  rising  in 
haste.  "  I  must  hurry  home  and  prevent  his  escape. 
Why,  it's  really  dangerous  to  have  him  at  large.  If  he 
wasn't  so  disabled  I'd  tremble  for  the  lives  of  my  wife 
and  children. 

"  He  trumped  up  a  story  to  tell  me — had  his  revolver 
in  his  coat  pocket,  set  it  off  in  tumbling  over  a  log  in 
the  dark,  and  so  shot  himself.  Of  course  I  knew  'twas 
a  lie,  because  in  that  case  the  ball  would  have  entered 
from  below,  at  the  back  of  the  arm,  and  come  out  above, 
while  the  reverse  was  the  case." 

"But  how  could  you  tell  where  it  entered  or  where 
it  passed  out,  doctor?  "  inquired  Elsie. 

"How,  Mrs.  Travilla?  Why,  where  it  goes  in  it 
makes  merely  a  small  hole  ;  you  see  nothing  but  a  blue 
mark ;  but  a  much  larger  opening  in  passing  out,  often 
tearing  the  flesh  a  good  deal ;  as  in  this  case. 


160  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

11  Ah,  either  he  was  a  fool  or  thought  I  was.  But 
good-bye.  I  shall  gallop  home  as  fast  as  possible  and 
send  back  word  whether  I  find  him  there  or  not." 

"Don't  take  the  trouble,  doctor,"  said  Mr.  Travilla; 
"we  will  mount  and  follow  you  at  once,  to  identify 
him  if  he  is  to  be  found.  Shall  we  not,  wife?  " 

"If  you  say  so,  Edward,  and  are  quite  sure  he  can- 
not harm  you  now  ?  " 

"No  danger,  Mrs.  Travilla,"  cried  the  doctor,  look- 
ing back  as  he  rode  off. 


CHAPTER  SIXTEENTH. 

«•  Oft  those  whose  cruelty  makes  many  mourn 
Do  by  the  fires  which  they  first  kindle  burn." 

— EARL  OF  STIRLING.  * 
«*  As  crimes  do  grow,  justice  should  rouse  itself." 

— JOHNSON'S  CATILINE. 

JACKSON  thought  he  read  suspicion  in  the  doctor's  eye 
as  the  latter  left  the  office ;  also  he  felt  sure  the  physician 
would  not  ride  far  before  hearing  of  the  attack  on  Via- 
mede,  and  would  speedily  come  at  the  truth  by  putting 
that  and  that  together ;  perhaps  return  with  a  party  of 
avengers,  and  hang  him  to  a  tree  in  the  adjacent  forest. 

"I  must  get  out  o'  this  before  I'm  an  hour  older," 
said  the  scoundrel  to  himself.  "  Oh,  for  the  strength  I 
had  yesterday  !  " 

"Why  don't  you  lie  down,  sah,  as  Massa  Doctah  tole 
ye?"  asked  Nap,  returning.  "Massa  always  'spects 
folks  to  do  prezactly  as  he  tells  dem." 

"Why,  Sambo,  I'm  too  dirty  to  lie  on  that  nice 
sofa,"  replied  Jackson,  glancing  down  at  his  soiled 
garments. 

"Sambo's  not  my  name,  sah,"  said  the  negro,  draw- 
ing himself  up  with  dignity;  "I'se  Napoleon  Boning- 
party  George  Washington  Marquis  de  Lafayette,  an'  dey 
calls  me  Nap  for  short.  If  ye'll  take  off  dat  coat,  sah, 
an'  dem  boots,  I'll  take  'em  out  to  de  kitchen  yard  an1 
clean  'em." 

161 


162  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Thank  you ;  if  you  will  I'll  give  you  a  dollar.  And 
if  you'll  brush  the  mud  from  my  pants  first,  I'll  try  the 
sofa;  for  I'm  nearly  dead  for  sleep  and  rest/' 

"All  right,  sah,"  and  Nap  went  to  a  closet,  brought 
out  a  whisk,  and  using  it  vigorously  upon  the  pantaloons, 
soon  brushed  away  the  mud,  which  the  sun  had  made 
very  dry.  A  few  blood  stains  were  left,  but  there  was 
no  help  for  that  at  present.  The  coat  was  taken  off  with 
some  difficulty  on  account  of  the  wounded  arm,  then  the 
boots,  and  Jackson  laid  himself  down  on  the  sofa  and 
closed  his  eyes. 

Nap  threw  the  coat  over  his  arm,  and  taking  the  boots 
in  the  other  hand  went  softly  out,  closing  the  door  behind 
him.  "  Safe  'miff  now,  I  reckon,"  he  chuckled  to  him- 
self; "guess  he  not  trabble  far  widout  dese." 

He  was  hardly  gone,  however,  when  Jackson  roused 
himself  and  forced  his  weary  eyes  to  unclose.  "  As 
dangerous  as  to  go  to  sleep  when  freezing,"  he  muttered. 
He  rose,  stepped  to  the  closet  door,  and  opened  it. 

A  pair  of  boots  stood  on  the  floor,  a  coat  hung  on  a 
peg.  He  helped  himself  to  both,  sat  down  and  drew  on 
the  boots,  which  were  a  little  too  large  but  went  on  all 
the  more  readily  for  that.  Now  for  the  coat.  It  was  not 
new,  but  by  no  means  shabby.  He  took  out  his  knife, 
hastily  ripped  up  the  right  sleeve  and  put  it  on.  It  fitted 
even  better  than  the  boots. 

Nap  had  brought  a  bottle  of  wine  and  left  it  on  the 
office  table,  forgetting  to  carry  it  back  to  the  dining- 
room.  Jackson  took  it  up,  and  placing  it  to  his  mouth 
drained  the  last  drop.  Then  putting  on  his  hat,  he  stole 
softly  from  the  house  and  down  the  avenue. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  163 

To  his  great  joy  a  boat  was  just  passing  in  the  direc- 
tion to  take  him  farther  from  Viamede.  He  signaled  it, 
and  was  taken  aboard. 

-'Been  getting  Dr.  Balis  to  patch  up  a  wound,  eh, 
stranger?"  said  the  skipper,  glancing  at  the  disabled 
arm. 

"Yes;  "  and  Jackson  repeated  the  story  already  told 
to  the  surgeon. 

The  skipper  sympathized  and  advised  a  rest  in  the 
cabin. 

"Thank  you,"  said  Jackson;  "but  I'm  only  going  a 
few  miles,  when  I'll  reach  a  point  where,  by  taking  to 
the  woods  again,  I'll  be  likely  to  find  my  friends ;  who 
are  doubtless  anxious  to  know  what  has  become  of  me." 

"  Very  well,  sir,  when  we  come  to  the  right  place,  just 
let  us  know  and  we'll  put  you  off." 

Evidently  the  skipper  had  heard  nothing  to  arouse  his 
suspicions.  Jackson  was  landed  at  the  spot  he  pointed 
out — a  lonely  one  on  the  edge  of  a  forest,  without  ques- 
tion or  demur,  and  the  boat  went  on  its  way. 

He  watched  it  till  it  disappeared  from  view,  then 
plunging  into  the  woods,  presently  found  a  narrow  foot- 
path, pursuing  which  for  an  hour  or  so  he  came  out  into 
a  small  clearing.  At  the  farther  side,  built  just  on  the 
edge  of  the  forest,  was  a  rude  log  cabin.  A  slatternly 
woman  stood  in  the  open  doorway. 

"So  ye  did  get  back  at  last?"  she  remarked,  as  he 
drew  near.  "I'd  most  give  ye  up.  What  ails  your 
arm  now?  " 

He  briefly  repeated  his  story  to  the  doctor  and  skip- 
per ;  then  asked  hurriedly,  "  Is  my  horse  all  right  ?  " 


1 64  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

The  woman  nodded.  "I've  tuck  good  care  on  her. 
Now  where's  the  gold  ye  promised  me  ?  " 

"  Here,"  he  said,  taking  out,  and  holding  up  before 
her  delighted  eyes,  several  shining  half-eagles;  "have 
my  horse  saddled  and  bridled  and  brought  round 
to  the  door  here  as  quickly  as  possible,  and  these  are 
yours." 

"I'll  do  it.  Bill,"  to  a  half-grown  youth  who  sat  on 
a  rude  bench  within  lazily  smoking  a  pipe — "run  and 
fetch  the  gentleman's  hoss.  But  what's  yer  hurry, 
mister?" 

"This,"  he  answered,  pointing  to  the  disabled  limb; 
"it's  growing  worse,  and  I'm  in  haste  to  get  home, 
where  I  can  be  nursed  by  mother  and  sisters,  before  I 
quite  give  out. ' ' 

"  She's  a  awful  sperited  cratur,  and  you'll  have  a  hard 
job  o'  it  to  manage  her,  with  one  hand." 

"  I  must  try  it,  nevertheless ;  I  believe  I  can  do  it  too; 
for  she  knows  her  master." 

"She'll  go  like  lightnin',"  said  the  boy,  as  he  brought 
the  animal  to  the  door;  "she's  been  so  long  in  the 
stable,  she's  as  wild  and  scary  as  a  bird." 

Jackson  threw  the  gold  into  the  woman's  lap,  turned 
about  and  taking  the  bridle  from  the  boy,  stroked,  patted, 
and  talked  soothingly  to  the  excited  steed,  who  was  snort- 
ing and  pawing  the  ground  in  a  way  that  boded  danger 
to  any  one  attempting  to  mount. 

His  caresses  and  kindly  tones  seemed,  however,  to 
have  a  calming  effect ;  she  grew  comparatively  quiet,  he 
sprang  into  the  saddle  and  was  off  like  an  arrow  from 
the  bow. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  165 

It  was  about  that  time  the  doctor  returned  to  his  office 
to  find  it  deserted.  Nap  was  summoned. 

"  What's  become  of  the  man  I  left  here  in  your  charge, 
sirrah  ?  "  asked  the  doctor  sternly. 

"  Dunno,  sah,  Massa  Doctah,"  answered  Nap,  glan- 
cing in  astonishment  from  side  to  side.  "  To't  he  heyah, 
sah ;  'deed  I  did.  Took  he  coat  an'  boots  to  clean  'em; 
to't  he  safe  till  I  fotch  'em  back ;  wouldn't  go  off  without 
dem." 

The  doctor  stepped  to  the  closet.  "  Yes,  my  coat  and 
boots  gone,  bottle  of  wine  emptied,  no  fee  for  profes- 
sional aid — a  fine  day's  work  for  me." 

"  Massa  Doctah  !  you  don't  say  de  rascal  done  stole 

yer  coat  an'  boots?  Oh,  ef  I  cotch  him,  I "  and 

Napoleon  Bonaparte  George  Washington  Marquis  de 
Lafayette  looked  unutterable  things. 

"Better  take  care  I  don't  get  hold  of  you  !  "  cried 
the  irate  master.  "Go  and  tell  Cato  to  saddle  and 
bridle  Selim  and  bring  him  to  the  door  as  quickly  as  pos- 
sible ;  and  do  you  find  out  if  anybody  saw  which  way 
the  rascal  went.  He  must  be  caught,  for  he's  a  burglar 
and  murderer !  " 

Nap  lifted  his  hands  and  opened  mouth  and  eyes  wide 
in  surprise  and  horror. 

"  Begone  !  "  cried  the  doctor,  stamping  his  foot,  "  and 
don't  stand  gaping  there  while  the  scoundrel  escapes." 

Nap  shuffled  out,  leaving  his  master  pacing  the  office 
to  and  fro  with  angry,  impatient  strides. 

"What  is  it,  my  dear?  what  has  gone  wrong?  "  asked 
his  wife,  looking  in  upon  him. 

"  Come,  sit  down  on  the  sofa  here  and  I'll  tell  you/' 


166  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

he  said,  his  excited  manner  quieting  somewhat  at  sight 
of  her  pleasant  face. 

She  accepted  the  invitation,  and  seating  himself  beside 
her  he  briefly  related  all  that  he  knew  of  Jackson  and 
his  attack  on  Mr.  Travilla. 

He  had  hardly  finished  when  Nap  returned  with  the 
news  that  several  of  the  negro  children  had  seen  a  man 
go  down  the  avenue  and  get  aboard  a  passing  boat. 

"Ah  ha!"  cried  the  doctor,  jumping  up;  "and 
which  way  was  the  boat  going  ?  " 

"  Dat  way,  sah,"  replied  Nap,  indicating  the  direction 
by  a  flourish  of  his  right  hand. 

At  that  moment  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Travilla  rode  up,  and 
Dr.  and  Mrs.  Balis  hastened  out  to  greet  them. 

"  He's  gone;  took  the  morning  boat,"  cried  the  doctor. 

"  Good  !  "  said  Mr.  Travilla,  "  we  have  only  to  head 
him  with  a  telegram,  and  he'll  be  arrested  on  stepping 
ashore ;  or  on  board  the  boat." 

"  Unless  he  should  land  in  the  next  town,  Madison, 
which  the  boat,  having  a  good  hour's  start  of  us,  would 
reach  before  the  swiftest  messenger  we  could  send  ; 
probably  has  already  reached."  J 

"  Then  the  best  plan  will  be  for  me  to  ride  on  to  Mad- 
ison, give  notice  to  the  authorities,  have  it  ascertained 
whether  our  man  has  landed  there,  and  if  not  telegraph 
to  the  next  town  and  have  them  ready  to  board  the  boat, 
with  a  warrant  for  his  arrest,  as  soon  as  it  arrives." 

"  Yes ;  and  I'll  mount  Selim  and  go  with  you," 
answered  the  doctor.  "  I  probably  know  the  road  better 
than  you  do.  And  our  wives  may  keep  each  other  conv 
pany  till  we  return." 


ERIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  167 

"What  do  you  say,  Elsie?"  asked  Mr.  Travilla. 

"  That  I  will  go  or  stay  as  you  think  best." 

"We  must  ride  very  fast ;  I  think  it  would  fatigue  you 
too  much ;  so  advise  you  to  stay  with  Mrs.  Balis,  and  I 
will  call  for  you  on  my  return." 

"  Do,  Mrs.  Travilla !  I  should  be  delighted  to  have 
you,"  urged  Mrs.  Balis;  "and  you  can  tell  me  all 
about  last  night.  What  a  trial  to  your  nerves  !  I 
don't  wonder  you  are  looking  a  little  pale  this  morn- 

ing." 

"Thank  you,  I  will  stay,"  said  Elsie;  and  instantly 
her  husband,  giving  his  horse  into  Nap's  charge  for  a 
moment,  sprang  to  the  ground  and  lifted  her  from  the 
saddle.  "  Don't  be  anxious,  little  wife,"  he  whispered, 
as  the  soft  eyes  met  his  with  a  fond  wistful  look,  "  I  am 
not  likely  to  be  in  danger,  and  you  know  the  sweet  words, 
'  Not  a  hair  of  your  head  shall  fall  to  the  ground  without 
your  Father.'  " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  know,  and  will  trust  you  in  His  hands, 
my  dear  husband,"  was  the  low-breathed  response. 

Another  moment  and  the  two  gentlemen  were  gallop- 
ing rapidly  down  the  avenue  side  by  side.  The  ladies 
stood  on  the  veranda,  watching  till  they  were  out  of 
sight,  then  went  into  the  house. 

"  Now,  my  dear  Mrs.  Travilla,  shall  I  just  treat  you 
as  one  of  ourselves,  and  take  you  into  my  own  breezy 
room?"  asked  Mrs.  Balis,  regarding  Elsie  with  an  affec- 
tionate, admiring  look. 

"It  is  just  what  I  should  like,  Mrs.  Balis,"  Elsie  ?n. 
swered,  with  a  smile  so  sweet  that  her  hostess  put  he*- 
arm  about  her  and  kissed  her. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  I  can't  help  it,"  she  said  ;  "  you  take  my  heart  by 
storm  with  your  beauty,  grace,  and  sweetness." 

"Thank  you,  and  you  need  not  apologize,"  Elsie 
said,  returning  the  embrace;  "love  is  too  precious  a 
gift  to  be  rejected." 

"  I  think  Mr.  Tra villa  a  very  fortunate  man,  and  so 
does  my  husband." 

"  And  am  not  I  a  fortunate  woman,  too  ?  " 

"Ah,  yes,  Mr.  Travilla  is  most  agreeable  and  enter- 
taining, handsome  too  ;  and  indeed  I  should  think  every- 
thing one  could  wish  in  a  husband;  as  mine  is,"  she 
added  laughingly.  "  I  presume  neither  of  us  would  con- 
sent to  an  exchange  of  partners.  Are  you  fond  of  chil- 
dren, Mrs.  Travilla?" 

"Very." 

"Shall  I  show  you  mine?  " 

"I  should  like  to  see  them,  if  you  please." 

Mrs.  Balis  at  once  led  the  way  to  the  nursery,  where 
she  exhibited,  with  much  motherly  pride  and  delight,  her 
three  darlings ;  the  eldest  five,  the  second  three  years  of 
age,  the  third  a  babe  in  the  arms.  They  were  bright- 
eyed,  rosy-cheeked  children,  full  of  life  and  health,  but 
to  Elsie's  taste  not  half  so  sweet  and  pretty  as  Rose- 
bud. 

Mrs.  Balis  next  conducted  her  guest  to  her  boudoir  ;  a 
servant  brought  in  refreshments,  consisting  of  a  variety  of 
fruits,  cakes,  and  confections,  with  wine  sangaree  and 
lemonade.  After  partaking  of  these,  the  ladies  had  a 
long  talk  while  awaiting  the  return  of  their  husbands. 
The  gentlemen  were  gone  much  longer  than  had  been 
anticipated,  and  I  am  not  sure  the  wives  did  not  grogf  rt 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  169 

little  uneasy.  At  all  events  they  left  the  boudoir  for  the 
front  veranda,  which  gave  them  a  view  of  the  avenue 
and  some  hundred  yards  of  the  road  beyond  in  the  di- 
rection from  which  the  travelers  must  come.  And  when 
at  length  the  two  were  descried  approaching,  in  a  more 
leisurely  manner  than  they  went,  there  was  a  simulta- 
neous and  relieved  exclamation,  "  Oh,  there  they  are  at 
last." 

The  ladies  stood  up  and  waved  their  handkerchiefs. 
There  was  no  response;  the  gentlemen's  faces  were 
towards  each  other  and  they  seemed  to  be  engaged  in 
earnest  converse. 

"Unsuccessful,"  said  Mrs.  Balis. 

"  How  do  you  know  ?  "  asked  Elsie. 

"  There's  an  air  of  dejection  about  them." 

"  I  don't  see  it,"  returned  Elsie,  smiling.  "  They 
seem  to  me  only  too  busy  talking  to  notice  our  little  at- 
tention." 

But  Mrs.  Balis  was  correct  in  her  conjecture.  The 
boat  had  passed  Madison  some  time  before  the  gentlemen 
arrived  there,  had  paused  but  a  few  minutes  and  landed 
no  such  passenger.  Learning  this  they  then  telegraphed 
the  authorities  of  the  next  town ;  waited  some  hours,  and 
.received  a  return  telegram  to  the  effect  that  the  boat  had 
"been  boarded,  no  person  answering  the  description 
found ;  but  the  captain  gave  the  information  that  such  a 
man  had  been  taken  on  board  at  Dr.  Balis'  plantation, 
and  set  ashore  at  the  edge  of  a  forest  half-way  between 
that  place  and  Madison. 

On  receiving  this  intelligence  Mr.  Travilla  and  the 
doctor  started  for  home,  bringing  with  them  a  posse  of 


I/O  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

mounted  men  headed  by  some  of  the  police  of  Madi- 
son. 

Dr.  Balis  had  taken  with  him  to  Madison  the  blood., 
stained  coat  of  Jackson.  From  this  the  hounds  took  the 
scent,  and  on  arriving  at  the  wood  mentioned  by  the 
skipper,  soon  found  the  trail  and  set  off  in  hot  pursuit, 
the  horsemen  following  close  at  their  heels. 

Our  gentlemen  did  not  join  in  the  chase,  but 
having  seen  it  well  begun,  continued  on  their  homeward 
way. 

"And  you  did  consent  to  the  use  of  hounds?  "  Elsie 
said  inquiringly,  and  with  a  slightly  reproachful  look  at 
her  husband. 

"My  dear,"  he  answered  gently,  "having  been  put 
into  the  hands  of  the  police  it  has  now  become  a  com- 
monwealth case,  and  I  have  no  authority  to  dictate  their 
mode  of  procedure." 

"  Forgive  me,  dearest,  if  I  seemed  to  reproach  you," 
she  whispered,  the  sweet  eyes  seeking  his  with  a  loving, 
repentant  look,  as  for  a  moment  they  were  left  alone  to- 
gether. 

He  drew  her  to  him  with  a  fond  caress.  "  My  dar- 
ling, I  have  nothing  to  forgive." 

In  the  cabin  at  whose  door  Jackson  had  made  his  call 
and  remounted  his  steed,  a  woman — the  same  with  whom 
his  business  had  been  transacted — was  stooping  over  an 
open  fire,  frying  fat  pork  and  baking  hoe-cake.  Bill  sat 
on  his  bench  smoking  as  before,  while  several  tow-headed 
children  romped  and  quarreled,  chasing  each  other  round 
and  round  the  room  with  shouts  of  "  You  quit  that  ere  1 " 
"  Mammy,  I  say,  make  her  stop." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  171 

"  Hush !  "  cried  the  woman,  suddenly  straightening 
herself,  and  standing  in  a  listening  attitude,  as  a  deep 
sound  came  to  the  ear,  borne  on  the  evening  breeze. 

"Hounds!  bloodhounds!"  cried  Bill,  springing  to 
his  feet  with  unwonted  energy.  "And  they're  a-comirf 
this  way;  makin'  straight  for  the  house,"  he  added^ 
glancing  from  the  door,  then  shutting  it  with  a  bang. 
"  They're  after  that  man ;  you  may  depend.  He's  9 
'balitionist,  or  a  horse  thief,  or  somethin'."  ') 

The  children  crouched,  silent,  pale,  and  terror- 
stricken,  in  a  corner,  while  outside,  the  deep  baying  of 
the  hounds  drew  nearer  and  nearer,  and  mingling  with  it 
came  other  sounds  of  horses'  hoofs  and  the  gruff  voices 
of  men.  Then  a  loud  "  Halloo  the  house  !  " 

"  What's  wanted  ?"  asked  Bill,  opening  the  one  win- 
dow and  putting  out  his  head. 

"The  burglar  you're  hiding  from  justice  and  the 
hounds  have  tracked  to  your  door.  A  fellow  with  his 
right  arm  disabled  by  a  pistol-shot." 

"  He  isn't  here,  didn't  step  inside  at  all ;  don't  ye  see 
the  hounds  are  turning  away  from  the  door  ?  But  you 
kin  come  in  an'  look  for  yourself." 

One  of  the  men  dismounted  and  went  in. 

"Look  round  sharp  now,"  said  the  woman.  "I  only 
wish  he  was  here  fur  ye  to  ketch  um :  if  I'd  know'd  he 
was  a  burglar,  he  would  never  hev  got  off  so  easy.  He 
jest  come  for  his  beast  that  he  left  with  us  four  days  ago, 
and  mounted  there  at  the  door  and  was  off  like  a  shot." 

"  Which  way?  "  asked  the  man. 

She  pointed  in  a  southerly  direction.  "  It's  the  way 
to  Texas,  ain't  it?  an'  he's  got  four  or  five  hours  the 


172  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

start  o'  ye,  an'  on  a  swift  horse ;  he'll  be  over  the  border 
line  afore  ye  kin  ketch  up  to  him." 

"I'm  afraid  so,  indeed;  but  justice  can  follow  him 
even  there,"  replied  the  officer,  hastening  out,  already 
satisfied  that  the  one  bare  room  did  not  contain  his 
quarry. 

He  sprang  into  the  saddle,  and  the  whole  party  gal- 
loped away  in  the  wake  of  the  dogs,  who  had  found  the 
trail  again  and  started  off  in  full  cry. 

The  party  had  a  hard  ride  of  some  hours,  the  hounds 
never  faltering  or  losing  the  scent ;  but  at  length  they 
were  at  fault.  They  had  reached  a  brook  and  here  the 
trail  was  lost ;  it  was  sought  for  on  both  sides  of  the 
stream  for  a  considerable  distance  both  up  and  down, 
then  abandoned  in  despair. 

The  wily  burglar  had  made  his  steed  travel  the  bed  of 
the  stream,  which  was  nowhere  very  deep,  for  several 
miles ;  then  taking  to  the  open  country  again  and  travel- 
ing under  cover  of  the  darkness  of  a  cloudy  night,  at 
length,  in  a  condition  of  utter  exhaustion,  reached  a 
place  of  safety  among  some  of  his  confederates ;  for  he 
had  joined  himself  to  a  gang  of  villains  who  infested  that 
part  of  the  country. 

But  "Though  hand  join  in  hand,  the  wicked  shall 
not  be  unpunished."  Few  if  any  of  them  would  escape 
a  violent  and  terrible  death  at  the  last;  and — "after 
that  the  judgment  "  ;  from  which  none  may  be  excused. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEENTH. 

•«  His  house  she  enters,  there  to  be  a  light 
Shining  within,  when  all  without  is  night ; 
A  guardian  angel  o'er  his  life  presiding, 
Doubling  his  pleasure,  and  his  cares  dividing." 

— ROGERS'  HUMAN  LIFE. 

Ax  the  set  time  our  friends  turned  their  faces  home- 
ward, leaving  their  loving  dependents  of  Viamede  all 
drowned  in  tears.  In  the  six  weeks  of  their  stay, 
"Massa"  an'  "Missus"  had  become  very  dear  to  those 
warm,  childlike  hearts. 

Elsie  could  not  refrain  from  letting  fall  some  bright 
sympathetic  drops,  though  the  next  moment  her  heart 
bounded  with  joy  at  the  thought  of  home  and  father. 
The  yearning  to  hear  again  the  tones  of  his  loved  voice, 
to  feel  the  clasp  of  his  arm  and  the  touch  of  his  lip  upon 
brow  and  cheek  and  lip,  increased  with  every  hour  of  the 
rapid  journey. 

Its  last  stage  was  taken  in  the  Ion  family  carriage, 
which  was  found  waiting  for  them  at  the  depot. 

Elsie  was  hiding  in  her  own  breast  a  longing  desire  to 
go  first  to  the  Oaks,  chiding  herself  for  the  wish,  since 
her  husband  was  doubtless  fully  as  anxious  to  see  his 
mother,  and  wondering  why  she  had  not  thought  of  ask- 
ing for  a  gathering  of  both  families  at  the  one  place  or 
the  other. 

They  had  left  the  noisy   city  far  behind,  and  were 


174  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

bowling  smooth1  along  a  very  pleasant  part  of  the  road> 
bordered  with  gieensward  and  shaded  on  either  side  by 
noble  forest  trees ;  she  with  her  mind  filled  with  these 
musings,  sitting  silent  and  pensive,  gazing  dreamily 
from  the  window. 

Suddenly  her  eyes  encountered  a  well-known  noble 
form,  seated  on  a  beautiful  spirited  horse,  which  he  was 
holding  in  wkh  a  strong  and  resolute  hand. 

"Papa  !  "  she  exclaimed,  with  a  joyous,  ringing  cry; 
and  instantly  he  had  dismounted,  his  servant  taking 
Selim's  bridle-reins,  the  carriage  had  stopped,  and  spring- 
ing out  she  was  in  his  arms. 

"My  dear  father,  I  was  so  hungry  to  see  you,"  she 
said,  almost  crying  for  joy.  "How  good  of  you  to 
come  to  meet  us,  and  so  much  nicer  here  than  in  the 
crowded  depot." 

"Good  of  me,"  he  answered,  with  a  happy  laugh. 
"  Of  course,  as  I  was  in  no  haste  to  have  my  darling  in 
my  arms.  Ah,  Travilla,  my  old  friend,  I  am  very  glad 
to  see  your  pleasant  face  again."  And  he  shook  hands 
warmly.  "Many  thanks  to  you  (and  to  a  higher 
power),"  he  added  reverently,  "for  bringing  her  safely 
back  to  me.  She  seems  to  have  been  well  taken  care  of; 
plump  and  bright  and  rosy." 

.  "I  have  been,  papa ;  even  you  could  not  be  more 
tender  and  careful  of  me  than — my  husband  is." 

Her  father  smiled  at  the  shy,  half-hesitating  way  in 
which  the  last  word  slipped  from  the  rich  red  lips,  and/ 
the  tender,  loving  light  in  the  soft  eyes  as  they  met  thfc 
fond,  admiring  gaze  of  Travilla's. 

"No  repentance  on  either  side  yet,  I  see,"  he  said 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  175 

laughingly.  "Travilla,  your  mother  is  in  excellent 
health  and  spirits ;  but  impatient  to  embrace  both  son 
and  daughter,  she  bade  me  say.  We  all  take  tea  by  in- 
vitation at  Ion  to-day ;  that  is,  we  of  the  Oaks,  including- 
Aunt  Wealthy  and  Miss  King." 

"  Oh,  how  nice  !  how  kind  1  "  cried  Elsie. 

"  And  to-morrow  you  are  all  to  be  at  the  Oaks !  " 
added  her  father.  "Now  shall  I  ride  beside  your  car- 
riage? or  take  a  seat  in  it  with  you? " 

"The  latter,  by  all  means,"  answered  Travilla, 
Elsie's  sparkling  eyes  saying  the  same,  even  more  em- 
phatically. 

"Take  Selim  home,  and  see  that  both  he  and  the 
family  carriage  are  at  Ion  by  nine  this  evening,"  was 
Mr.  Dinsmore's  order  to  his  servant. 

"Ah,  papa!  so  early!"  Elsie  interposed,  in  a  tone 
that  was  half  reproach,  half  entreaty. 

"We  must  not  keep  you  up  late  arter  your  journey, 
my  child,"  he  answered,  following  her  into  the  carriage, 
Mr.  Travilla  stepping  in  after. 

"The  seats  are  meant  for  three;  let  me  sit  between 
you,  please,"  requested  Elsie. 

"But  are  you  not  afraid  of  crushing  your  dress?" 
asked  her  father  jocosely,  making  room  for  her  by  his 
side. 

"Not  I,"  she  answered  gayly,  slipping  into  her 
chosen  place  with  a  light,  joyous  laugh,  and  giving  a 
hand  to  each.  "  Now  I'm  the  happiest  woman  in  the 
world." 

"As  you  deserve  to  be,"  whispered  her  husband, 
clasping  tight  the  hand  he  held. 


176  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Oh,  you  flatterer  !  "  she  returned.  "  Papa,  did  you 
miss  me?" 

"Every  day,  every  hour.  Did  I  not  tell  you  so 
in  my  letters  ?  And  you  ?  did  you  think  often  of 
me?" 

"Oftener  than  I  can  tell." 

"I  have  been  wondering,"  he  said,  looking  gravely 
into  her  eyes,  ' '  why  you  both  so  carefully  avoided  the 
slightest  allusion  to  that  most  exciting  episode  of  your 
stay  at  Viamede." 

Elsie  blushed.  "We  lid  not  wish  to  make  you  un- 
easy, papa." 

"  Of  course,  you  must  have  seen  a  newspaper  ac- 
count?" observed  Mr.  Tra villa. 

"  Yes ;  and  now  suppose  you  let  me  hear  your  report. 
Did  the  villain's  shot  graze  Elsie's  forehead  and  carry  a 
tress  of  her  beauti  il  hair?  " 

"  No,  no,  it  w  s  only  a  lock  of  her  unworthy  hus» 
band's  hair — a  much  slighter  loss,"  Travilla  said, 
laughing.  "  But  perhaps  the  reporter  would  justify  his 
misrepresentation  on  the.  plea  that  man  and  wife  ar? 
one." 

"  Possibly.  And  did  your  shot  shatter  the  bone  in  the 
rascal's  arm?  " 

"No;  Dr.  Balis  told  me  the  ball  glanced  from  the 
bone,  passed  under  the  nerve  and  severed  the  humeral 
artery." 

"  It's  a  wonder  he  didn't  bleed  to  death." 

"Yes;  but  it  seems  he  had  sufficient  knowledge  and 
presence  of  mind  to  improvise  a  tourniquet  with  his 
handkerchief  and  a  stick." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  177 

"What  rooms  were  you  occupying?"  asked  Mr. 
Dinsmore.  "Come,  just  tell  me  the  whole  story  as  if  I 
had  heard  nothing  of  it  before." 

Travilla  complied,  occasionally  appealing  to  Elsie  to 
assist  his  memory ;  and  they  had  hardly  done  with  the 
subject  when  the  carriage  turned  into  the  avenue  at  Ion. 

"My  darling,  welcome  to  your  home,"  said  Travilla 
low  and  tenderly,  lifting  the  little  gloved  hand  to  his  lips. 

An  involuntary  sigh  escaped  from  Mr.  Dinsmore1  s 
breast. 

"  Thank  you,  my  friend,"  Elsie  replied  to  her  hus- 
band, the  tone  and  the  look  saying  far  more  than  the 
words.  Then  turning  to  her  father,  "  And  to-morrow, 
papa,  you  will  welcome  me  to  the  other  of  my  two  dear 
homes." 

"  I  hope  so,  daughter;  sunlight  is  not  more  welcome 
than  you  will  always  be." 

What  joyous  greetings  now  awaited  our  travelers. 
Elsie  had  hardly  stepped  from  the  carriage  ere  she  found 
herself  in  Mrs.  Travilla's  arms,  the  old  lady  rejoicing 
over  her  as  the  most  precious  treasure  Providence  could 
have  sent  her. 

Then  came  Rose,  with  her  tender,  motherly  embrace, 
and  joyous  "  Elsie,  dearest,  how  glad  I  am  to  have  you 
with  us  again." 

"Oh,  but  you've  missed  us  sadly!"  said  Aunt 
Wealthy,  taking  her  turn;  "  the  house  seemed  half  gone 
at  the  Oaks.  Didn't  it,  Horace  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  absence  of  our  eldest  daughter  made  a  very 
wide  gap  in  the  family  circle,"  answered  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

And  "Yes,  indeed!"  cried  Horace  junior,  thinking 


178  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

himself  addressed.  "  I  don't  believe  I  could  have  done 
without  her  at  all  if  she  hadn't  written  me  those  nice 
little  letters." 

"Don't  you  thank  me  for  bringing  her  back  then,  my 
little  brother?"  asked  Mr.  Travilla,  holding  out  his  hand 
to  the  child. 

"  Yes,  indeed,  Brother  Edward.  Papa  says  I  may 
call  you  that,  as  you  asked  me  to ;  and  I'll  give  you  an- 
other hug  as  I  did  that  night,  if  you'll  let  me." 

"  That  I  will,  my  boy  !  "  And  opening  wide  his  arms 
he  took  the  lad  into  a  warm  embrace,  which  was  re- 
turned as  heartily  as  given. 

"  Now,  Elsie,  it's  my  turn  to  have  a  hug  and  kiss  from 
you,"  Horace  said,  as  Mr.  Travilla  released  him;  "ev- 
erybody's had  a  turn  but  me.  Miss  King  and  Rosebud 
and  all." 

Elsie  had  the  little  one  in  her  arms,  caressing  it  fondly. 

"  Yes,  my  dear  little  brother,"  she  said,  giving  Rose- 
bud to  her  mammy,  "  you  shall  have  as  hard  a  nug  as  I 
can  give,  and  as  many  kisses  as  you  want.  I  love  you 
dearly,  dearly,  and  am  as  glad  to  see  you  as  you  could 
wish  me  to  be." 

"Are  you  much  fatigued,  Elsie  dear?"  asked  Rose, 
svhen  the  greetings  were  over,  even  to  the  kindly  shake 
of  the  hand  and  pleasant  word  to  each  of  the  assembled 
servants. 

"Oh,  no,  mamma,  we  have  traveled  but  little  at  night, 
and  last  night  I  had  nine  hours  of  sound,  refreshing 
sleep." 

"That  was  right,"  her  father  said,  with  an  approving 
glance  at  Travilla. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  I- 

9 

Mrs.  Travilla  led  the  way  to  a  suite  of  beautiful  apart- 
ments prepared  for  the  bride. 

Elsie's  taste  had  been  consulted  in  all  the  refitting  and 
refurnishing,  and  the  whole  effect  was  charming.  This 
was,  however,  her  first  sight  of  the  rooms  since  the 
changes  had  been  begun. 

The  communicating  doors  were  thrown  wide,  giving  a 
view  of  the  whole  suite  at  once,  from  the  spot  where  Elsie 
stood  between  Mr.  Travilla  and  his  mother.  She  gazed 
for  a  moment,  then  turned  to  her  husband  a  face  spark- 
ling with  delight. 

"Does  it  satisfy  you,  my  little  wife?"  he  asked,  in 
tones  that  spoke  intense  enjoyment  of  her  pleasure. 

"Fully,  in  every  way;  but  especially  as  an  evidence 
of  my  husband's  love,"  she  answered,  suffering  him  to 
throw  an  arm  about  her  and  fold  her  to  his  heart. 

There  had  been  words  of  welcome  and  a  recognition 
of  the  younger  lady  as  now  mistress  of  the  mansion, 
trembling  on  the  mother's  tongue,  but  she  now  stole 
quietly  away  and  left  them  to  each  other. 

In  half  an  hour  the  two  rejoined  their  guests,  "  some- 
what improved  in  appearance,"  as  Mr.  Travilla  laugh- 
ingly said  he  hoped  they  would  be  found. 

"You  are  indeed,"  said  Aunt  Wealthy,  "a  lily  or  a 
rose  couldn't  look  lovelier  than  Elsie  does  in  that  pure 
white,  and  with  the  beautiful  flowers  in  her  hair.  I  like 
her  habit  of  wearing  natural  flowers  in  her  hair." 

"And  I,"  said  her  husband,  "they  seem  to  me  to 
have  been  made  for  her  adornment." 

"And  your  money-hoon's  over,  Elsie;  how  odd  At 
seems  to  think  you've  been  so  long  matric^,  And  did 


J8o  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

you  pet  through  the  money-hoon  without  a  quarrel? 
But  of  course  you  did." 

Elsie,  who  had  for  a  moment  looked  slightly  puzzled 
by  the  new  word,  now  answered  with  a  smile  of  compre- 
hension, "Oh,  yes,  auntie;  surely  we  should  be  a  sad 
couple  if  even  the  honeymoon  were  disturbed  by  a  disa- 
greement. But  Edward  and  I  never  mean  to  quarrel." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  turned  in  his  chair,  and  gave  his 
daughter  a  glance  of  mingled  surprise  and  disapproba- 
tion. 

"There,  papa,  I  knew  you  would  think  me  disrespect- 
ful," she  exclaimed  with  a  deep  blush;  "but he  insisted, 
indeed  ordered  me,  and  you  know  I  have  promised  to 
obey." 

"It  is  quite  true,"  assented  Mr.  Tra villa,  coloring  in 
his  turn  ;  "  but  I  told  her  it  was  the  only  order  I  ever 
meant  to  give  her." 

"Better  not  make  rash  promises,  "  said  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
laughing ;  "  these  wives  are  sometimes  inclined  to  take 
advantage  of  them." 

"Treason!  treason!"  cried  Rose,  lifting  her  hands; 
"to  think  you'd  say  that  before  me  ! 

« « Husband,  husband,  cease  your  strife 

No  longer  idly  rove,  sir  ; 
Tho'  I  am  your  wedded  wife, 
Yet  I  am  not  your  slave,  sir.' " 

There  was  a  general  laugh,  in  the  midst  of  which  the 
tea-bell  rang. 

"Come,"  said  the  elder  Mrs.  Travilla  good-humoredly, 
"  don't  be  setting  a  bad  example  to  my  children,  Mr. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  181 

and  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  but  let  us  all  adjourn  amicably  to 
the  tea-room,  and  try  the  beneficial  effect  of  meat  and 
drink  upon  our  tempers." 

"That's  a  very  severe  reproof,  coming  from  so  mild  a 
person  as  yourself,  Mrs.  Travilla,"  said  Rose.  "  My 
dear,  give  your  arm  to  Aunt  Wealthy,  or  our  hostess. 
The  ladies  being  so  largely  in  the  majority,  the  youngei 
ones  should  be  left  to  take  care  of  themselves ;  of  course 
excepting  our  bride.  Miss  King,  will  you  take  my 
arm?" 

"  Sit  here,  my  daughter,"  said  Mrs.  Travilla,  indica- 
ting the  seat  before  the  tea-urn. 

"  Mother,  I  did  not  come  here  to  turn  you  out  of  your 
rightful  place,"  objected  Elsie,  blushing  painfully. 

"  My  dear  child,  it  is  your  own  place ;  as  the  wife  of 
the  master  of  the  house,  you  are  its  mistress.  And  if  you 
knew  how  I  long  to  see  you  actually  filling  that  position ; 
how  glad  I  am  to  resign  the  reigns  to  such  hands  as 
yours,  you  need  not  hesitate  or  hold  back." 

"Yes;  take  it,  wife,"  said  Mr.  Travilla,  in  tender,  re- 
assuring tones,  as  he  led  her  to  the  seat  of  honor  ;  "  I 
know  my  mother  is  sincere  (she  is  never  anything  else), 
and  she  told  me  long  ago,  even  before  she  knew  who  was 
to  be  her  daughter,  how  glad  she  would  be  to  resign  the 
cares  of  mistress  of  the  household."  Elsie  yielded, 
making  no  further  objection,  and  presided  with  the  same 
modest  ease,  dignity,  and  grace  with  which  she  had  filled 
the  like  position  at  Viamede.  The  experience  there  had 
accustomed  her  to  the  duties  of  the  place,  and  after  the 
*»rst  moment  she  felt  quite  at  home  in  it. 

Mr.   Dinsmore's  carriage  was  announced  at  the  early 


182  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

hour  he  had  named.  The  conversation  in  the  drawing- 
room  had  been  general  for  a  time,  but  now  the  company 
had  divided  themselves  into  groups ;  the  two  older  married 
ladies  and  Aunt  Wealthy  forming  one,  Mr.  Travilla  and 
Miss  King  another,  while  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  his  daughter 
had  sought  out  the  privacy  of  a  sofa,  at  a  distance  from 
the  others,  and  were  in  the  midst  of  one  of  the  long, 
confidential  chats  they  always  enjoyed  so  much. 

"Ah,  papa,  don't  go  yet,"  Elsie  pleaded,  "we're  not 
half  done  our  talk,  and  it's  early." 

"  But  the  little  folks  should  have  been  in  their  nests 
long  before  this,"  he  said,  taking  out  his  watch. 

"  Then  send  them  and  their  mammies  home,  and  let 
the  carriage  return  for  you  and  the  ladies ;  unless  thev 
wish  to  go  now." 

He  looked  at  her  smilingly.  "  You  are  not  feeling 
the  need  of  rest  and  sleep?  " 

"Not  at  all,  papa;  only  the  need  of  a  longer  chat 
with  you." 

"  Thea,  since  you  had  so  good  a  rest  last  night,  it  shall 
be  as  you  wish." 

"Are  you  ready,  my  dear?"  asked  Rose,  from  the 
Other  side  of  the  room. 

"  Not  yet,  wife  ;  I  shall  stay  half  an  hour  longer,  and 
if  you  ladies  like  to  do  the  same  we  will  send  the  car- 
riage home  with  the  children  and  their  mammies,  and  let 
\t  return  for  you." 

"  What  do  you  say,  Aunt  Wealthy  and  Miss  Lottie?  " 
inquired  Mrs.  Dinsmore. 

"  I  prefer  to  stay  and  talk  out  my  finish  with  Mrs. 
Travilla,"  said  Miss  Stanhope. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  183 

"I  cast  my  vote  on  the  same  side,"  said  Miss  King. 
"But,  my  dear  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  don't  let  us  keep  you." 

"Thanks,  no;  but  I,  too,  prefer  another  half  hour  in 
this  pleasant  company." 

The  half  hour  flew  away  on  swift  wings,  to  Elsie  es- 
pecially. 

"  But  why  leave  us  at  all  to-night,  auntie  and  Lottie  ?  " 
she  asked,  as  the  ladies  began  their  preparations  for  de- 
parture. "  You  are  to  be  my  guests  for  the  rest  of  the 
winter,  are  you  not?  "  Then  turning,  with  a  quick  vivid 
blush,  to  Mrs.  Travilla,  "  Mother,  am  I  transcending  my 
rights  ?  " 

"  My  dearest  daughter,  no ;  did  I  not  say  you  were 
henceforth  mistress  of  this  house?  " 

"  Yes,  from  its  master  down  to  the  very  horses  in  the 
stable  and  dogs  in  the  kennel,"  laughed  Mr.  Travilla, 
coming  softly  up  and  stealing  an  arm  about  his  wife's  waist. 

Everybody  laughed. 

"No,  sir;  I  don't  like  to  contradict  you,"  retorted 
Elsie,  coloring  but  looking  lovingly  into  the  eyes  bent  so 
fondly  upon  her,  "  but  I  am — nothing  to  you  but  your 
little  wife ; ' '  and  her  voice  sank  almost  to  a  whisper  with 
the  last  word. 

f     "Ah?    Well,  dear  child,  that's  enough  for  me,"  he 
said,  in  the  same  low  tone. 

"But,  Lottie,"  she  remarked  aloud,  "you  are  tying 
on  your  hat.  Won't  you  stay?  " 

"  Not  to-night,  thank  you,  Mrs.  Travilla,"  answered 
the  gay  girl  in  her  merry,  lively  tones. 

"  You  are  to  be  at  the  Oaks  to-morrow,  and  perhaps 
I'll— well,  we  can  settle  the  time  there." 


J84  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"And  you,  auntie?" 

"  Why,  dearie,  I  think  you'd  better  get  your  house- 
keeping a  little  used  to  your  ways  first.  And  it's  better 
for  starting  out  that  young  folks  should  be  alone." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  had  stepped  into  the  hall  for  his  hat, 
and  while  the  other  ladies  were  making  their  adieus  to 
her  new  mother,  Elsie  stole  softly  after  him. 

"My  good-night  kiss,  papa,"  she  whispered,  putting 
her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"  My  dear  darling  !  my  precious,  precious  child  !  how 
glad  I  am  to  be  able  to  give  it  to  you  once  more,  and  to 
take  my  own  from  your  own  sweet  lips,"  he  said,  clasp- 
ing her  closer.  "  God  bless  you  and  keep  you,  and  ever 
cause  His  face  to  shine  upon  you." 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEENTH. 

"  O  what  passions  then 
What  melting  sentiments  of  kindly  care, 
On  the  new  parents  seize." 

—THOMPSON'S  AGAMEMNON. 

"  There  is  none 

In  all  this  cold  and  hollow  world,  no  fount 
Of  deep,  strong,  deathless  love,  save  that  within 
A  mother's  heart !  " 

—MRS.  REMANS. 

FINDING  it  so  evidently  the  wish  of  both  her  husband 
and  his  mother,  Elsie  quietly  and  at  once  assumed  the 
reins  of  government. 

But  with  that  mother  to  go  to  for  advice  in  every  doubt 
and  perplexity,  and  with  a  dozen  or  more  of  well-trained 
servants  at  her  command,  her  post,  though  no  sinecure, 
did  not  burden  her  with  its  duties ;  she  still  could  find 
time  for  the  cultivation  of  mind  and  heart,  for  daily 
walks  and  rides,  and  the  enjoyment  of  society  both  at 
home  and  abroad. 

Shortly  after  the  return  of  the  newly  married  pair, 
there  was  a  grand  party  given  in  their  honor  at  Rose- 
lands;  another  at  Ashlands,  one  at  Pinegrove,  at  the 
Oaks,  and  several  other  places ;  then  a  return  was  made 
by  a  brilliant  affair  of  the  kind  at  Ion. 

But  when  at  last  this  rather  wearying  round  was  over, 
they  settled  down  to  the  quiet  home  life  much  more  con- 
genial to  both ;  always  ready  to  entertain  with  unbounded 
185 


186  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

hospitality,  and  ignoring  none  of  the  legitimate  claims 
of  the  outside  world,  they  were  yet  far  more  interested  in 
the  affairs  of  their  own  little  one,  made  up  of  those 
nearest  and  dearest. 

They  were  an  eminently  Christian  household,  care- 
fully instructing  their  dependents  in  the  things  pertaining 
to  godliness,  urging  them  to  faith  in  Jesus  evidenced  by 
good  works;  trying  to  make  the  way  of  salvation  very 
clear  to  their  often  dull  apprehension,  and  to  recommend 
it  by  their  own  pure,  consistent  lives. 

Night  and  morning  all  were  called  together — family 
and  house  servants — and  Mr.  Travilla  read  aloud  a  por- 
tion of  Scripture,  and  led  them  in  prayer  and  praise. 
Nor  was  a  meal  ever  eaten  without  God's  blessing  having 
first  been  asked  upon  it. 

There  was  but  one  drawback  to  Elsie's  felicity — that 
she  no  longer  dwelt  under  the  same  roof  with  her  father ; 
yet  that  was  not  so  great,  as  a  day  seldom  passed  in 
which  they  did  not  meet  once  or  oftener.  It  must  be 
very  urgent  business,  or  a  severe  storm,  that  kept  him 
from  riding  or  driving  over  to  Ion,  unless  his  darling  first 
appeared  at  the  Oaks. 

Aunt  Wealthy  and  Lottie  came  to  Ion  within  a  fort- 
night after  the  return  from  Viamede;  and  while  the 
former  divided  the  rest  of  her  stay  at  the  South  between 
Ion  and  the  Oaks,  Lottie  spent  nearly  the  whole  of  hers 
with  Elsie. 

In  May,  Harry  Duncan  came  for  his  aunt,  and  Miss 
King  returned  with  them  to  her  paternal  home.  Our 
friends  at  Ion  and  the  Oaks  decided  to  spend  their  sum« 
mer  at  home  this  year. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  187 

"  We  have  traveled  so  much  of  late  years,"  said  Rose, 
"that  I  am  really  tired  of  it." 

"  And  home  is  so  dear  and  sweet,"  added  Elsie.  "  I 
mean  both  Ion  and  the  Oaks,  Edward  and  papa;  for 
somehow  they  seem  to  me  to  be  both  included  in  that 
Mie  dear  word." 

"  That  is  right,"  responded  her  father. 

"  Yes;  we  seem  to  be  all  one  family,"  said  Mr.  Tra- 
villa,  contentedly,  fondling  Rosebud,  whom  he  had 
coaxed  to  a  seat  upon  his  knee ;  "  and  like  a  good 
spouse,  I  vote  on  the  same  side  with  my  wife." 

"I  too,"  said  his  mother,  looking  affectionately  upon 
them  both.  "  I  have  no  inclination  to  travel,  and  shall 
be  much  happier  for  having  you  all  about  me." 

The  summer  glided  rapidly  by,  and  vanished,  leaving 
at  Ion  a  priceless  treasure. 

It  was  a  soft,  hazy,  delicious  September  morning; 
Elsie  sat  in  her  pretty  boudoir,  half-reclining  in  the 
depths  of  a  large  velvet-cushioned  easy  chair.  Her  hus- 
band had  left  her  a  minute  before,  and  she  was — no,  not 
quite  alone,  for  her  eyes  were  turning  with  a  sweet,  new 
fight  in  them,  upon  a  beautiful  rosewood  crib  where,  un- 
derneath the  silken  covers  and  resting  on  pillows  of  eider- 
down, lay  a  tiny  form,  only  a  glimpse  of  the  pink  face 
and  one  wee  doubled-up  fist  to  be  caught  through  the 
Jace  curtains  so  carefully  drawn  about  the  little  sleeper. 

A  familiar  step  was  heard  in  the  outer  room.  The 
door  opened  quietly,  and  Elsie  looking  up  cried,  "  Papa," 
m  a  delighted  yet  subdued  tone. 

"  My  darling,"  he  said,  coming  to  her  and  taking  her 
in  his  arms.  "  How  nice  to  see  you  up  again ;  but  you 


188  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

must  be  careful,  very,  very  careful,  not  to  overexert 
yourself." 

"  I  am,  my  dear  father,  for  Edward  insists  on  it,  and 
watches  over  me,  and  baby  too,  as  if  really  afraid  we 
might  somehow  slip  away  from  him." 

"  He  is  quite  right.  There,  you  must  not  stand  ,,  re* 
cline  in  your  chair  again,  while  I  help  myself  to  a  seat  by 
your  side.  How  are  you  to-day  ?" 

"  I  think  I  never  felt  better  in  my  life,  papa ;  so  strong 
and  well  that  it  seems  absurd  to  be  taking  such  care  of 
myself." 

"  Not  at  all ;  you  must  do  it.  You  seem  to  be  alone 
with  your  babe.  I  hope  you  never  lift  her  ?  " 

"  No,  sir,  not  yet.  That  I  shall  not  has  been  my  hus- 
band's second  order.  Mammy  is  within  easy  call,  just 
in  the  next  room,  and  will  come  the  instant  she  is 
wanted," 

"Let  me  look  at  her;  unless  you  think  it  will  disturb 
her  rest." 

"Oh,  no,  sir."  And  the  young  mother  gently  drew 
aside  the  curtain  of  the  crib. 

The  two  bent  over  the  sleeping  babe,  listening  to  its 
gentle  breathing. 

"Ah,  papa,  I  feel  so  rich  !  you  don't  know  how  I  love 
her  !  "  whispered  Elsie. 

"Don't  I,  my  daughter?  don't  I  know  how  I  love 
you?"  And  his  eyes  turned  with  yearning  affection 
upon  her  face,  then  back  to  that  of  the  little  one.  "Six 
weeks  old  to-day,  and  a  very  cherub  for  beauty.  Aunt 
Chloe  tells  me  she  is  precisely  my  daughter  over  again, 
and  I  feel  as  if  I  had  now  an  opportunity  to  recover 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  189 

what  I  lost  in  not  having  my  first-born  with  me  from  her 
birth.  Little  Elsie,  grandpa  feels  that  you  are  his ;  his 
precious  treasure." 

The  young  mother's  eyes  grew  misty  with  a  strange 
mixture  of  emotion,  in  which  love  and  joy  were  the 
deepest  and  strongest.  Her  arm  stole  round  her  father's 
neck. 

"Dear  papa,  how  nice  of  you  to  love  her  so;  my 
precious  darling.  She  is  yours,  too,  almost  as  much  as 
Edward's  and  mine.  And  I  am  sure  if  we  should  be 
taken  away  and  you  and  she  be  left,  you  would  be  the 
the  same  good  father  to  her  you  have  been  to  me." 

"Much  better,  I  hope.  My  dear  daughter,  I  was  far 
too  hard  with  you  at  times.  But  I  know  you  have  for- 
given it  all  long  ago." 

"  Papa,  dear  papa,  please  don't  ever  again  talk  of — of 
forgiveness  from  me ;  I  was  your  own,  and  I  believe  you 
always  did  what  you  thought  was  for  my  good  ;  and  oh, 
what  you  have  been,  and  are  to  me,  no  tongue  can  tell." 

"  Or  you  to  me,  my  own  beloved  child,"  he  answered 
with  emotion. 

The  babe  stirred,  and  opened  its  eyes  with  a  little, 
"Coo,  coo." 

"Let  me  take  her,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore,  turning  back 
the  cover  and  gently  lifting  her  from  her  cozy  nest 

Elsie  lay  back  among  her  cushions  again,  watching 
with  delighted  eyes  as  her  father  held  and  handled  the 
wee  body  as  deftly  as  the  most  competent  child's  nurse. 

It  was  a  very  beautiful  babe;  the  complexion  soft, 
smooth,  and  very  fair,  with  a  faint  pink  tinge  ;  the  little, 
finely  formed  head  covered  with  rings  of  golden  hair 


19©  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

that  would  some  day  change  to  the  darker  shade  of  her 
mother's,  whose  regular  features  and  large,  soft  brown 
eyes  she  inherited  also. 

"Sweet  little  flower  blossomed  into  this  world  of  sin 
and  sorrow  !  Elsie,  dearest,  remember  that  she  is  not 
absolutely  yours,  her  father's,  or  mine;  but  only  lent 
you  a  little  while  to  be  trained  up  for  the  Lord." 

"Yes,  papa,  I  know,"  she  answered  with  emotion, 
"and  I  gave  her  to  Him  even  before  her  birth." 

"  I  hope  she  will  prove  as  like  you  in  temper  and  dis- 
position as  she  bids  fair  to  be  in  looks." 

"Papa,  I  should  like  her  to  be  much  better  than  I  was." 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  half-incredulous  smile. 
"  That  could  hardly  be,  if  she  has  any  human  nature  at 
all." 

"Ah,  papa,  you  forget  how  often  I  used  to  be  naughty 
jnd  disobedient ;  how  often  you  had  to  punish  me ;  par- 
acularly  in  that  first  year  after  you  returned  from  Europe. ' ' 

A  look  of  pain  crossed  his  features.  "Daughter, 
dear,  I  am  full  of  remorse  when  I  think  of  that  time.  I 
fully  deserved  the  epithet  Travilla  once  bestowed  upon 
me  in  his  righteous  indignation  at  my  cruelty  to  my  gen- 
ile,  sensitive  little  girl." 

"What  was  that,  papa?"  she  asked,  with  a  look  of 
wonder  and  surprise. 

"  Dinsmore,  you're  a  brute  !  " 

"Papa,  how  could  he  say  that !  "  and  the  fair  face 
Bushed  with  momentary  excitement  and  anger  towards 
the  father  of  her  child,  whom  she  so  thoroughly  respected 
and  so  dearly  loved. 

"Ah,  don't  be  angry  with  him,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore; 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  191 

"I  was  the  culprit.  You  cannot  have  forgotten  your 
fall  from  the  piano-stool  which  came  so  near  making  me 
childless?  It  was  he  who  ran  in  first,  lifted  you,  and 
laid  you  on  the  sofa  with  the  blood  streaming  from  the 
wounded  temple  over  your  curls  and  your  white  dress. 
Ah,  i  can  never  forget  the  sad  sight,  or  the  pang  that 
shot  through  my  heart  with  the  thought  that  you  were 
dead.  It  was  as  he  laid  you  down  that  Travilla  turned 
to  me  with  those  indignant  words,  and  I  felt  that  I  fully 
deserved  them.  And  yet  I  was  even  more  cruel  after- 
wards, when  next  you  refused  to  obey  when  I  bade  you 
offend  against  your  conscience." 

"Don't  let  us  think  or  talk  of  it  any  more,  dear  fa- 
ther ;  I  love  far  better  to  dwell  upon  the  long  years  that 
followed,  full  of  the  tenderest  care  and  kindness.  You 
certainly  can  find  nothing  to  blame  yourself  with  in 
them." 

"  Yes ;  I  governed  you  too  much.  It  would  probably 
have  ruined  a  less  amiable  temper,  a  less  loving  heart, 
than  yours.  It  is  well  for  parents  to  be  sometimes  a  little 
blind  to  trivial  faults.  And  I  was  so  strict,  so  stern,  so 
arbitrary,  so  severe.  My  dear,  be  more  lenient  to  your 
child.  But  of  course  she  will  never  find  sternness  ia 
either  you  or  her  father." 

"I  think  not,  papa;  unless  she  proves  very  head- 
strong ;  but  you  surely  cannot  mean  to  advise  us  not  to 
require  the  prompt,  cheerful,  implicit  obedience  you  have 
always  exacted  from  all  your  children  ?" 

"  No,  daughter  ;  though  you  might  sometimes  excuse 
or  pardon  a  little  forgetfulness  when  the  order  has  noa: 
been  of  vital  importance,"  he  answered,  with  a  smile. 


192  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence :  then  looking  affection- 
ately into  her  father's  face,  Elsie  said,  "I  am  so  glad, 
papa,  that  we  have  had  this  talk.  Edward  and  I  have 
had  several  on  the  same  subject  (for  we  are  very,  very 
anxious  to  train  our  little  one  aright) ;  and  I  find  that  we 
all  agree.  But  you  must  be  tired  acting  the  part  of 
nurse.  Please  lay  her  in  my  arms." 

"  I  am  not  tired,  but  I  see  you  want  her,"  he  answered 
with  a  smile,  doing  as  she  requested. 

"Ah,  you  precious  wee  pet!  you  lovely,  lovely  little 
darling  !  "  the  young  mother  said,  clasping  her  child  to 
her  bosom,  and  softly  kissing  the  velvet  cheek.  "  Papa, 
is  she  really  beautiful  ?  or  is  it  only  the  mother  love  that 
makes  her  so  in  my  eyes  ?  " 

"  No ;  she  is  really  a  remarkably  beautiful  babe. 
Strangers  pronounce  her  so  as  well  as  ourselves.  Do  you 
feel  quite  strong  enough  to  hold  her  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes,  sir;  yes,  indeed!  The  doctor  says  he 
thinks  there  would  now  be  no  danger  in  my  lifting  her, 
but ' '  laughingly,  and  with  a  fond  look  up  into  her  hus- 
band's eyes,  as  at  that  moment  he  entered  the  room, 
"  that  old  tyrant  is  so  fearful  of  an  injury  to  this  piece  of 
his  personal  property,  that  he  won't  let  me." 
;  "  That  old  tyrant,  eh  ?  "  he  repeated,  stooping  to  take 
a  kiss  from  the  sweet  lips,  and  to  bestow  one  on  the  wee 
1  face  resting  on  her  bosom. 

"Yes,  you  know  you  are,"  she  answered,  her  eyes 
contradicting  her  words ;  "  the  idea  of  you  forbidding 
Sne  to  lift  my  own  baby  !  " 

"  My  baby,  my  little  friend,"  he  said  gayly. 

Elsie  laughed  a  low,  silvery,  happy  laugh,  musical  as 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


193 


a  chime  of  bells.  "Our  baby,"  she  corrected.  "But 
you  have  not  spoken  to  papa." 

"Ah,  we  said  good-morning  out  in  the  avenue. 
Dinsmore,  since  we  are  all  three  here  together  now,  sup- 
pose we  get  Elsie's  decision  in  regard  to  that  matter  we 
were  consulting  about." 

"Very  well." 

"  What  matter?  "  she  asked,  looking  a  little  curious. 

"  A  business  affair,"  replied  her  husband,  taking  a 
seat  by  her  side. 

"  I  have  a  very  good  offer  for  your  New  Orleans  prop- 
erty, daughter,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore;  "shall  I  accept  it?'* 

" Do  you  think  it  advisable,  papa ?  and  you,  Edward? 
I  have  great  confidence  in  your  judgments." 

"We  do;  we  think  the  money  could  be  better  and 
more  safely  invested  in  foreign  stock ;  but  it  is  for  you  to 
decide,  as  the  property  is  yours." 

"  More  safely  invested  ?  I  thought  I  had  heard  you 
both  say  real  estate  was  the  safest  of  all  investments." 

"Usually,"  replied  her  father,  "  but  we  fear  property 
there  is  likely  to  depreciate  in  value." 

"  Well,  papa,  please  do  just  as  you  and  my  husband 
think  best.  You  both  know  far  more  about  these  things 
than  I  do,  and  so  I  should  rather  trust  your  judgment 
than  my  own." 

"Then  I  shall  make  the  sale;  and  I  think  the  time 
will  come  when  you  will  be  very  glad  that  I  did." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  presently  said  good-bye  and  went  away, 
leaving  them  alone. 

"Are  not  your  arms  tired,  little  wife?"  asked  Mr. 
Travilla. 


J94  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"No,  dear;  ah,  it  is  so  sweet  to  have  her  little  head 
lying  here ;  to  feel  her  little  form,  and  know  that  she  is 
aay  own,  own  precious  treasure." 

He  rose,  gently  lifted  her  in  his  arms,  put  himself  in 
the  easy  chair  and  placed  her  on  his  knee. 

"  Now  I  have  you  both.  Darling,  do  you  know  that  I 
love  you  better  to-day  than  I  ever  did  before  ?  " 

"Ah,  but  you  have  said  that  many  times,"  she  an- 
r.vered,  with  an  arch,  yet  tender  smile. 

"And  it  is  always  true.  Each  day  I  think  my  love  as 
great  as  it  can  be,  but  the  next  I  find  it  still  greater." 

"And  I  have  felt  angry  with  you  to-day,  for  the  first 
time  since  you  told  me  of  your  love."  Her  tone  was 
remorseful  and  pleading,  as  though  she  would  crave 
forgiveness. 

"Angry  with  me,  my  dearest?  In  what  can  I  have 
offended?"  he  asked  in  sorrowful  surprise. 

"  Papa  was  saying  that  he  had  sometimes  been  too 
hard  with  me,  and  had  fully  deserved  the  epithet  you 
once  bestowed  upon  him  in  your  righteous  indignation.  It 
was  when  I  fell  from  the  piano-stool ;  do  you  remember?  " 

"Ah,  yes,  I  can  never  forget  it.  And  I  called  him  a 
brute.  But  you  will  forgive  what  occurred  so  long  agop 
and  in  a  moment  of  anger  aroused  by  my  great  love  for 
you?" 

"Forgive  you,  my  husband?  ah,  it  is  I  who  should 
crave  forgiveness,  and  I  do,  though  it  was  a  momentary 
feeling ;  and  now  I  love  you  all  the  better  for  the  great 
loving  heart  that  prompted  the  exclamation." 

"We  will  exchange  forgiveness,"  he  whispered,  fold- 
ing her  closer  to  his  heart. 


CHAPTER  NINETEENTH. 

«  Sweet  is  the  image  of  the  brooding  dove ! 
Holy  as  heaven  a  mother's  tender  love  ! 
The  love  of  many  prayers,  and  many  tears 
Which  changes  not  with  dim,  declining  years  — 
The  only  love  which,  on  this  teeming  earth, 
Asks  no  return  for  passion's  wayward  birth." 

— MRS.  NORTON'S  DREAM.  ] 

"  Death  is  another  life." 

— BAILEY. 

No  mortal  tongue  or  pen  can  describe  the  new,  deep 
fountain  of  love  the  birth  of  her  child  had  opened  in  our 
Elsie's  heart. 

Already  a  devoted  wife  and  daughter,  she  was  the 
tenderest,  most  careful,  most  judicious  of  mothers ; 
watching  vigilantly  over  the  welfare,  physical,  moral, 
and  spiritual,  of  her  precious  charge. 

Often  she  took  it  with  her  to  her  closet,  or  kneeling 
beside  its  cradle,  sent  up  fervent  petitions  to  Him  who, 
while  on  earth,  said,  "  Suffer  the  little  children,  and  for- 
bid them  not,  to  come  unto  Me,"  that  He  would  receive 
'her  little  one,  and  early  make  her  a  lamb  of  His  fold. 

And  even  before  the  child  could  comprehend,  she  be- 
gan to  tell  it  of  that  dear  Saviour  and  His  wondrous  love ; 
then,  as  soon  as  it  could  speak,  she  taught  it  to  lisp  a 
simple  prayer  to  Him. 

Little  Elsie  was  almost  the  idol  of  her  father  and 
195 


196  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

grandparents,  who  all  looked  upon  her  as  a  sort  of  sec- 
ond edition  of  her  mother;  more  and  more  so  as  she 
grew  in  size,  in  beauty,  and  intelligence.  Our  Elsie 
seemed  to  find  no  cloud  in  her  sky  during  that  first  year 
of  her  motherhood.  "  I  thought  I  was  as  perfectly 
happy  as  possible  in  this  world,  before  our  darling 
came,"  she  said  to  her  husband  one  day,  "but  I  am 
far  happier  now ;  for  oh !  such  a  well-spring  of  joy  as 
she  is !  " 

"I  am  sure  I  can  echo  and  reecho  your  words,"  he 
answered,  folding  the  child  to  his  heart.  "How  rich  I 
have  grown  in  the  last  two  years  !  My  two  Elsies,  more 
precious  than  the  wealth  of  the  world  !  Sometime'  I'm 
half  afraid  I  love  you  both  with  an  idolatrous  affection, 
and  that  God  will  take  you  from  me."  His  voice  trem- 
bled with  the  last  words. 

"  I  have  had  that  fear  also,"  she  said,  coming  to  his 
side  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm ;  "  but,  Edward,  if 
we  put  God  first,  we  cannot  love  each  other,  nor  this  wee 
precious  pet,  too  dearly." 

"  No,  you  are  right,  little  wife.  But  we  must  not  ex- 
pect to  continue  always,  or  very  long,  so  free  from  trial  j 
for  'we  must  through  much  tribulation  enter  into  the 
kingdom  of  God.'  And  '  many  are  the  afflictions  of  the 
righteous.'  " 

"But  the  Lord  delivereth  him  out  of  them  all,"  sh? 
responded,  finishing  the  quotation. 

"  Yes,  dearest,  I  know  that  trials  and  troubles  will 
come,  but  not  of  themselves,  and  what  our  Father  sends, 
He  will  give  us  strength  to  bear.  « The  Lord  God  is  a 
sun  and  shield,  the  Lord  will  give  grace  and  glory.'  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  19? 

This  conversation  was  held  when  the  little  girl  was 
about  a  year  old. 

Early  in  the  following  winter  Elsie  said  to  the  dear  old 
Mrs.  Travilia,  "  Mother,  I'm  afraid  you  are  not  well. 
You  are  losing  flesh  and  color,  and  do  not  seem  so  strong 
as  usual.  Mamma  remarked  it  to  me  to-day,  and  asked 
what  ailed  you." 

"I  am  doing  very  well,  dear,"  the  old  lady  an- 
swered with  a  placid  smile,  and  in  her  own  gentle,  quiet 
tones. 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,  something  is  wrong ;  you  don't 
deny  that  you  are  ill !  "  and  Elsie's  tone  was  full  of  alarm 
and  distress,  as  she  hastily  seated  herself  upon  an  otto- 
man beside  Mrs.  Travilla's  easy  chair,  and  earnestly 
scanned  the  aged  face  she  loved  so  well.  "  We  must 
have  Dr.  Barton  here  to  see  you.  May  I  not  send  at 
once?" 

"  No,  dearest,  I  have  already  consulted  him,  and  he  is 
doing  all  he  can  for  my  relief." 

"  But  cannot  cure  you  ?  " 

The  answer  came  after  a  moment's  pause. 

"No,  dear;  but  I  had  hoped  it  would  be  much 
longer  ere  my  cross  cast  its  shadow  over  either  your  or 
Edward's  path." 

Elsie  could  not  speak ;  she  only  took  the  pale  hands 
in  hers,  and  pressed  them  again  and  again  to  her  quiv- 
ering lips,  while  her  eyes  filled  to  overflowing. 

"Dear  daughter,"  said  the  calm,  sweet  voice,  "do 
not  grieve  that  I  have  got  my  summons  home;  for 
dearly,  dearly  as  I  love  you  all,  I  am  often  longing  to 
see  the  face  of  my  Beloved;  of  Him  who  hath  re- 


198  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

deemed  me  and  washed  me  from  my  sins  in  His  own 
precious  blood." 

Mr.  Travilla  from  the  next  room  had  heard  it  all. 
Hurrying  in,  he  knelt  by  her  side  and  folded  his  arms 
about  her.  "  Mother,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  "  oh,  is  it,  can 
it  be  so  ?  Are  we  to  lose  you  ?  " 

"  No,  my  son;  blessed  be  God,  I  shall  not  be  lost,  but 
only  gone  before ;  so  don't  be  troubled  and  sorrowful 
when  you  see  me  suffer ;  remember  that  He  loves  me  far 
better  than  you  can,  and  will  never  give  me  one  un- 
needed  pang. 

"Well  may  I  bear  joyfully  all  He  sends;  for  your 
light  affliction,  which  is  but  for  a  moment,  worketh  for 
us  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eternal  weight  of  glory ; 
and  He  has  said,  *  When  thou  passest  through  the  waters, 
I  will  be  with  thee :  and  through  the  floods,  they  shall 
not  overflow  thee :  when  thou  walkest  through  the  fire 
thou  shalt  not  be  burned,  neither  shall  the  flames  kindle 
upon  thee.'  " 

"And  He  is  faithful  to  His  promises.  But  we  will 
not  let  you  die  yet,  my  mother,  if  anything  in  the  wide 
world  can  save  you.  There  are  more  skilful  physicians 
than  Dr.  Barton ;  we  will  consult  them " 

"My  son,  the  disease  is  one  the  whole  profession 
agree  in  pronouncing  incurable,  and  to  travel  would 
be  torture.  No,  be  content  to  let  me  die  at  home, 
with  you  and  this  beloved  daughter  to  smooth  my 
dying  pillow,  our  wee  precious  pet  to  wile  away  the 
pain  with  her  pretty  baby  ways,  and  my  own  pastor 
to  comfort  me  with  God's  truth  and  sweet  thoughts  of 
heaven." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  199 

Elsie  looked  the  question  her  trembling  lips  refused  to 
litter. 

"I  shall  not  probably  leave  you  soon,"  said  the  old 
lady.  "It  is  a  slow  thing,  the  doctor  tells  me,  it  will 
take  some  time  to  run  its  course." 

Elsie  could  scarce  endure  the  anguish  in  her  husband's 
face.  Silently  she  placed  herself  by  his  side,  her  arm 
about  his  neck,  and  laid  her  cheek  to  his. 

He  drew  her  yet  closer,  the  other  arm  still  em- 
bracing his  mother.  "Are  you  suffering  much,  dearest 
mother?" 

"Not  more  than  He  giveth  me  strength  to  bear;  and 
His  consolations  are  not  small. 

"  My  dear  children,  I  have  tried  to  hide  this  from 
you  lest  it  should  mar  your  happiness.  Do  not  let  it  do 
so ;  it  is  no  cause  of  regret  to  me.  I  have  lived  my 
three-score  years  and  ten,  and  if  by  reason  of  strength 
they  should  be  four-score,  yet  would  their  strength  be 
labor  and  sorrow.  I  am  deeply  thankful  that  our  Father 
has  decreed  to  spare  me  the  infirmities  of  extreme  old 
age,  by  calling  me  home  to  that  New  Jerusalem  where 
sin  and  sorrow,  pain  and  feebleness,  are  unknown." 

"But  to  see  you  suffer,  mother!  "  groaned  her  son. 

"  Think  on  the  dear  Hand  that  sends  the  pain — so  in- 
finitely less  than  what  He  bore  for  me  ;  that  it  is  but  for 
a  moment ;  and  of  the  weight  of  glory  it  is  to  work  for 
me.  Try,  my  dear  children,  to  be  entirely  submissive  to 
His  will." 

"We  will,  mother,"  they  answered;  "and  to  be 
cheerful  for  your  sake." 

A  shadow  had  fallen  upon  the  brightness  of  the  hith- 


200  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

erto  happy  home — a  shadow  of  a  great,  coming  sorrow— 
and  the  present  grief  of  knowing  that  the  dear  mother, 
though  ever  patient,  cheerful,  resigned,  was  enduring  al- 
most constant  and  often  very  severe  pain. 

They  watched  over  her  with  tenderest  love  and  care, 
doing  everything  in  their  power  to  relieve,  strengthen, 
comfort  her;  never  giving  way  in  her  presence  to  the 
grief  that  often  wrung  their  hearts. 

Dearly  as  M.r.  Travilla  and  Elsie  had  loved  each  other 
before,  this  community  of  sorrow  drew  them  still  closer 
together ;  as  did  their  love  for,  and  joy  and  pride  in, 
their  beautiful  child. 

The  consolations  of  God  were  not  small  with  any  of 
our  friends  at  Ion  and  the  Oaks ;  yet  was  it  a  winter  of 
trial  to  all. 

For  some  weeks  after  the  above  conversation,  Mr. 
Dinsmore  and  Rose  called  every  day,  and  showed 
themselves  sincere  sympathizers ;  but  young  Horace  and 
little  Rosebud  were  taken  with  scarlet  fever  in  its  worst 
form,  and  the  parents  being  much  with  them,  did  not 
venture  to  Ion  for  fear  of  carrying  the  infection  to  wee 
Elsie. 

By  God's  blessing  upon  skilful  medical  advice  and 
attention,  and  the  best  of  nursing,  the  children  were 
brought  safely  through  the  trying  ordeal,  the  disease 
leaving  no  evil  effects,  as  it  so  often  does.  But 
scarcely  had  they  convalesced  when  Mr.  Dinsmore 
fell  ill  of  typhoid  fever,  though  of  a  rather  mild 
type. 

Then  as  he  began  to  go  about  again,  Rose  took  to  her 
bed  with  what  proved  to  be  a  far  more  severe  and  last- 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  201 

ing  attack  of  the  same  disease ;  for  weeks  her  life  was  in 
great  jeopardy,  aud  even  after  the  danger  was  past,  the 
improvement  was  so  very  slow  that  her  husband  was 
filled  with  anxiety  for  her. 

Meanwhile  the  beloved  invalid  at  Ion  was  slowly  sink- 
ing to  the  grave.  Nay,  rather,  as  she  would  have  it, 
journeying  rapidly  towards  her  heavenly  home,  "  the  land 
of  the  leal,"  the  city  which  hath  foundations,  whose 
builder  and  Maker  is  God. 

She  suffered,  but  with  a  patience  that  never  failed,  a 
cheerfulness  and  joyful  looking  to  the  end,  that  ma^ "  her 
sick-room  a  sort  of  little  heaven  below. 

Her  children  were  with  her  almost  constantly  through 
the  day;  but  Mr.  Travilla,  watchful  as  ever  over  his 
idolized  young  wife,  would  not  allow  her  to  lose  a 
night's  rest,  insisting  on  her  retiring  at  the  usual  hour. 
Nor  would  he  allow  her  ever  to  assist  in  lifting  his 
mother,  or  any  of  the  heavy  nursing;  she  might  smooth 
her  pillows,  give  her  medicines,  order  dainties  prepared 
to  tempt  the  failing  appetite,  and  oversee  the  negro 
women,  who  were  capable  nurses,  and  one  of  whom  was 
always  at  hand  night  and  day,  ready  to  do  whatever  was 
required. 

Elsie  dearly  loved  her  mother-in-law,  and  felt  it  both 
a  duty  and  delight  to  do  all  in  her  power  for  her  com- 
fort and  consolation  ;  but  when  she  heard  that  her  own 
beloved  father  was  ill,  she  could  not  stay  away  from  him, 
bi't  made  a  daily  visit  to  the  Oaks  and  to  his  bedside. 
She  was  uniformly  cheerful  in  his  presence,  but  wept  in 
secret  because  she  was  denied  the  privilege  of  nursing 
him  in  his  illness. 


ao2  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Then  her  sorrow  and  anxiety  for  Rose  were  great,  and 
all  the  more  because,  Mrs.  Travilla  being  then  at  the 
worst,  she  could  very  seldom  leave  her  for  even  the 
shortest  call  at  the  Oaks. 

In  the  afternoon  of  a  sweet  bright  Sabbath  in  March, 
a  little  group  gathered  hi  Mrs.  Travilla's  room.  Her 
pastor  was  there:  a  man  of  large  heart  full  of  tender 
sympathy  for  the  sick,  the  suffering,  the  bereaved,  the 
poor,  the  distressed  in  mind,  body,  or  estate ;  a  man 
mighty  in  the  Scriptures ;  with  its  warnings,  its  counsels, 
its  assurances,  its  sweet  and  precious  promises  ever  ready 
on  his  tongue ;  one  who  by  much  study  of  the  Bible, 
accompanied  by  fervent  prayer  for  the  wisdom  promised 
to  him  that  asks  it,  had  learned  to  wield  wisely  and  with 
success  "  the  sword  of  the  Spirit  which  is  the  word  of 
God."  Like  Noah  he  was  a  preacher  of  righteousness, 
and  like  Paul  could  say,  "  I  ceased  not  to  warn  every 
one  night  and  day  with  tears." 

He  had  brought  with  him  one  of  his  elders,  a  man  of 
like  spirit,  gentle,  kind,  tender,  ever  ready  to  obey  the 
command  to  "  weep  with  those  that  weep  and  rejoice 
with  those  that  do  rejoice,"  a  man  silver-haired  and 
growing  feeble  with  age,  yet  so  meek  and  lowly  in  heart, 
so  earnest  and  childlike  in  his  approaches  to  our  Father, 
that  he  seemed  on  the  very  verge  of  heaven. 

"  Comfort  ye,  comfort  ye  my  people,  saith  your  God." 
Often  had  these  two  been  in  that  sick-room,  comforting 
the  aged  saint  as  she  neared  "  the  valley  of  the  shadow 
of  death." 

To-day  they  had  come  again  on  the  same  Christlike 
errand,  and  for  the  last  time ;  for  all  could  see  that  she 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  219 

is  no  yoke  of  oppression  to  cast  off.  There  can  be  no 
effect  without  a  cause." 

"The  accursed  lust  of  power  on  the  part  of  a  few 
selfish,  unprincipled  men,  may  invent  a  cause,  and  foi 
the  carrying  out  of  their  own  ambitious  schemes,  they 
may  lead  the  people  to  believe  and  act  upon  it.  No  one 
proposes  to  interfere  with  our  institution  where  it  already 
exists — even  the  Republican  party  has  emphatically  de- 
nied any  such  intention — yet  the  hue  and  cry  has  been 
raised  that  slavery  will  be  abolished  by  the  incoming  ad- 
ministration, arms  put  into  the  hands  of  the  blacks,  and 
a  servile  insurrection  will  bring  untold  horrors  to  the 
hearths  and  homes  of  the  South." 

"Oh,  dreadful,  dreadful !  "  cried  Rose. 

"But,  my  dear,  there  is  really  no  such  danger:  the 
men  (unscrupulous  politicians)  do  not  believe  it  them- 
selves ;  but  they  want  power,  and  as  they  could  never 
succeed  in  getting  the  masses  to  rebel  to  compass  their 
selfish  ends,  they  have  invented  this  falsehood  and  are 
deceiving  the  people  with  it." 

"  Don't  put  all  the  blame  on  the  one  side,  Dinsmore," 
said  Mr.  Travilla.  ' 

"No;  that  would  be  very  unfair.  The  framers  of 
our  constitution  looked  to  gradual  emancipation  to 
rid  us  of  this  blot  on  our  escutcheon,  this  palpable 
inconsistency  between  our  conduct  and  our  political 
creed. 

"It  did  so  in  a  number  of  States,  and  probably  would 
ere  this  in  all,  but  for  the  fierce  attacks  of  a  few  ultra- 
abolitionists,  who  were  more  zealous  to  pull  the  mote 
out  of  their  brother's  eye  than  the  beam  out  of  their  own, 


220  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

and  so  exasperated  the  Southern  people  by  their  whole* 
sale  abuse  and  denunciations,  that  all  thought  of  emanci- 
pation was  given  up. 

"It  is  human  nature  to  cling  the  tighter  to  anything 
another  attempts  to  force  from  you;  even  though  you 
may  have  felt  ready  enough  to  give  it  up  of  your  own 
free  will." 

"Very  true,"  said  Travilla,  "and  Garrison  and  his 
crew  would  have  been  at  better  work  repenting  of 
their  own  sins,  than  denouncing  those  of  their  neigh- 
bors." 

"But,  papa,  you  don't  think  it  can  come  to  war,  a 
civil  war,  in  our  dear  country  ?  the  best  land  the  sun 
shines  on :  and  where  there  is  none  of  the  oppression 
that  makes  a  wise  man  mad  !  " 

" I  fear  it,  daughter,  I  greatly  fear  it;  but  we  will  cast 
this  care,  as  well  as  all  others,  upon  Him  who  '  doeth  ac- 
cording to  His  will,  in  the  army  of  heaven  and  among 
the  inhabitants  of  the  earth.'  " 

What  a  winter  of  uncertainty  and  gloom  to  Ameri- 
cans, both  at  home  and  abroad,  was  that  of  i86o-'6i'. 
Each  mail  brought  to  our  anxious  friends  in  Naples 
news  calculated  to  depress  them  more  and  more  in 
view  of  the  calamities  that  seemed  to  await  their  loved 
land. 

State  after  State  was  seceding  and  seizing  upon 
United  States  property  within  its  limits — forts,  arsenals, 
navy-yards,  custom-houses,  mints,  ships,  armories,  and 
military  stores — while  the  government  at  Washington 
remained  inactive,  doubtless  fearing  to  precipitate  the 
civil  strife. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  221 

Still  Mr.  Travilla,  Rose,  and  Elsie,  like  many  lovers 
of  the  Union,  both  North  and  South,  clung  to  the  hope 
that  war  might  yet  be  averted. 

At  length  came  the  news  of  the  formation  of  the 
Confederacy :  Davis's  election  as  its  president ;  then 
of  the  firing  upon  the  Star  of  the  West,  an  un- 
armed vessel  bearing  troops  and  supplies  to  Fort 
Sumter. 

"  Well,  the  first  gun  has  been  fired,"  said  Mr.  Dins- 
more,  with  a  sigh,  as  he  laid  down  the  paper  from  which 
he  had  been  reading  the  account. 

"But  perhaps  it  may  be  the  only  one,  papa,"  re- 
marked Elsie  hopefully. 

"I  wish  it  may,"  replied  her  father,  rising  and  be- 
ginning to  pace  to  and  fro,  as  was  his  wont  when  excited 
or  disturbed. 

The  next  news  from  America  was  looked  for  with  in- 
tense anxiety.  It  was  delayed  longer  than  usual ;  and  at 
length  a  heavy  mail  came,  consisting  of  letters  and 
papers  of  various  dates  from  the  twelfth  to  the  twentieth 
of  April,  and  bringing  news  of  the  most  exciting  char- 
acter in  the  fall  of  Fort  Sumter :  the  call  of  the  president 
for  seventy-five  thousand  troops  to  defend  the  capital, 
the  seizure  of  the  United  States  armory  at  Harper's 
Ferry  by  the  Confederates  ;  the  attack  on  the  Massachu- 
setts troops  while  passing  through  Baltimore,  and  lastly 
the  seizure  of  Norfolk  Navy-yard. 

Dinner  was  just  over  at  the  villa,  the  family  still  chat- 
ting over  the  dessert,  children  and  all  in  an  unusually 
merry  mood,  when  this  mail  was  brought  in  by  a  servant, 
and  handed  to  Mr.  Dinsmore. 


222  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

He  promptly  distributed  it,  took  up  the  paper  of  the 
earliest  date,  and  glancing  over  the  headings,  exclaimed, 
with  a  groan,  "  It  has  come  !  " 

"  What?  "  queried  the  others,  in  excited  chorus. 

"  War  !  My  country  !  oh,  my  country  !  Fort  Sumter 
has  fallen  after  a  terrific  bombardment  of  thirty-six 
hours."  And  he  proceeded  to  read  aloud  the  account 
of  the  engagement,  the  others  listening  in  almost  breath- 
less silence. 

"  And  they  have  dared  to  fire  upon  the  flag  !  the 
emblem  of  our  nationality,  the  symbol  of  Revolutionary 
glory ;  to  tear  it  down  and  trample  it  in  the  dust !  "  cried 
Mr.  Travilla,  pushing  back  his  chair  in  unwonted  excite- 
ment ;  "  shameful,  shameful  !  " 

Tears  were  rolling  down  Elsie's  cheeks,  and  Rose's 
eyes  were  full. 

"  Let  us  adjourn  to  the  library  and  learn  together  alJr 
these  papers  and  letters  can  tell  us,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
rising.  "  'Twill  be  better  so;  we  shall  need  the  support 
of  each  other's  sympathy." 

He  led  the  way  and  the  rest  followed. 

The  papers  were  examined  first,  by  the  gentlemen, 
now  the  one  and  now  the  other  reading  an  article  aloud, 
the  excitement  and  distress  of  all  increasing  with  each 
item  of  intelligence  in  regard  to  public  affairs.  Rose 
and  Elsie  opened  their  letters,  and  now  and  then,  in  the 
short  pauses  of  the  reading,  cast  a  hasty  glance  at  their 
contents. 

Elsie's  were  from  her  Aunt  Adelaide,  Walter,  and 
Enna.  Rose's  from  her  mother,  Richard,  May,  and 
Sophie. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  223 

The  last  seemed  written  in  a  state  of  distraction. 

"Rose,  Rose,  I  think  I  shall  go  crazy!  my  husband 
and  his  brothers  have  enlisted  in  the  Confederate  army. 
They,  Harry  especially,  are  furious  at  the  North  and  full 
of  fight ;  and  I  know  my  brothers  at  home  will  enlist  on 
the  other  side ;  and  what  if  they  should  meet  and  kill 
each  other !  Oh,  dear !  oh,  dear  !  my  heart  is  like  to 
break  ! 

"  And  what  is  it  all  about  ?  I  can't  see  that  anybody's 
oppressed  ;  but  when  I  tell  Harry  so,  he  just  laughs  and 
says,  '  No,  we're  not  going  to  wait  till  they  have  time  to 
rivet  our  chains.'  'But,'  I  say,  'I've  had  neither  sight 
nor  sound  of  chains ;  wait  at  least  till  you  hear  their 
clank.'  Then  he  laughs  again,  but  says  soothingly, 
'  Never  mind,  little  wife ;  don't  distress  yourself;  the 
North  won't  fight ;  or  if  they  do  try  it,  will  soon  give  it 
up.'  But  I  know  they  won't  give  up :  they  wouldn't  be 
Americans  if  they  did. 

"Arthur  and  Walter  Dinsmore  were  here  yesterday, 
and  Arthur  is  worse  than  Harry  a  great  deal ;  actually 
told  me  he  wouldn't  hesitate  to  shoot  down  any  or  all  of 
my  brothers,  if  he  met  them  in  Federal  uniform.  Walter 
is  almost  silent  on  the  subject,  and  has  not  yet  enlisted. 
Arthur  taunted  him  with  being  for  the  Union,  and  said 
if  he  was  quite  sure  of  it  he'd  shoot  him,  or  help  hang 
him  to  the  nearest  tree. 

"  Oh,  Rose  !  pray,  pray  that  this  dreadful  war  may  be 
averted  !  " 

Rose  felt  almost  stunned  with  horror  as  she  read; 
but  her  tears  fell  fast  as  she  hurriedly  perused  the  con- 
tents of  the  other  three,  learning  from  them  that  Richard, 


224  ELSIE'S  WOMAMIOOD. 

Harold,  and  Fred  had  already  enlisted,  and  Edward 
would  do  the  same  should  the  war  continue  long. 

"My  heart  is  torn  in  two!  "  she  cried,  looking  pit- 
eously  up  in  her  husband's  face,  with  the  tears  streaming 
down  her  own. 

"What  is  it,  my  darling?"  he  asked,  coming  to  her 
and  taking  her  cold  hands  in  his. 

"Oh  my  country  !  my  country  !  My  brothers,  too — 
and  yours !  they  are  pitted  against  each  other — have  en- 
listed in  the  opposing  armies.  Oh,  Horace,  Horace ! 
what  ever  shall  we  do? " 

"  God  reigns,  dearest ;  let  that  comfort  you  and  all  of 
us,"  he  said,  in  moved  tones.  "It  is  dreadful,  dread- 
ful !  Brothers,  friends,  neighbors,  with  hearts  full  of 
hatred  and  ready  to  imbrue  their  hands  in  each  other's 
blood ;  and  for  what  ?  That  a  few  ambitious,  selfish, 
unscrupulous  men  may  retain  and  increase  their  power  ; 
for  this  they  are  ready  to  shed  the  blood  of  tens  of  thou- 
sands of  their  own  countrymen,  and  bring  utter  ruin 
upon  our  beautiful,  sunny  South." 

"  Oh,  papa,  surely  not  !  "  cried  Elsie;  "these  papers 
say  the  war  cannot  last  more  than  three  months." 

"  They  forget  that  it  will  be  American  against  Ameri- 
can. If  it  is  over  in  three  years,  'twill  be  shorter  than  I 
expect." 

Elsie  was  weeping,  scarcely  less  distressed  than  Rose. 

"  We  will,  at  least,  hope  for  better  things,  little  wife," 
her  husband  said,  drawing  her  to  him  with  caressing 
motion.  "  What  do  your  letters  say  ?  " 

"They  are  full  of  the  war;  it  is  the  all-absorbing 
theme  with  them,  as  with  us.  Aunt  Adelaide's  is  very 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  225 

sad.  Her  heart  clings  to  the  South,  as  ours  do ;  yet,  like 
us,  she  has  a  strong  love  for  the  old  Union. 

"  And  she's  very  found  of  her  husband,  who,  she  says, 
is  very  strong  for  the  Government ;  and  then,  besides  her 
distress  at  the  thought  that  he  will  enlist,  her  heart  is  torn 
with  anguish  because  her  brothers  and  his  are  in  the  op- 
posing armies. 

"Oh,  Edward!  isn't  it  terrible?  Civil  war  in  our 
dear  land  !  So  many  whom  we  love  on  both  sides  !  " 

There  was  a  moment  of  sorrowful  silence.  Then  her 
father  asked,  "  What  does  Enna  say  ?  " 

"  She  is  very  bitter,  papa :  speaks  with  great  contempt 
of  the  North ;  exults  over  the  fall  of  Fort  Sumter  and 
the  seizure  of  United  States  property ;  glories  in  the  war- 
spirit  of  Dick  and  Arthur,  and  sneers  at  poor  Walter  be- 
cause he  is  silent  and  sad,  and  declines,  for  the  present 
at  least,  to  take  any  part  in  the  strife.  Grandpa,  she 
says,  and  his  mother,  too,  are  almost  ready  to  turn  him 
out  of  the  house ;  for  they  are  as  hot  secessionists  as  can 
be  found  anywhere. 

"  1  have  a  letter  from  Walter  too,  papa.  He  writes  in 
a  very  melancholy  strain  ;  hints  mildly  at  the  treatment 
he  receives  at  home ;  says  he  can't  bear  the  idea  of  fight- 
ing against  the  old  flag,  and  still  less  the  old  friends  he 
has  at  the  North,  and  wishes  he  was  with  us  or  anywhere 
out  of  the  country,  that  he  might  escape  being  forced  to 
take  part  in  the  quarrel." 

"Poor  fellow  !"  sighed  Mr.  Dinsmore.  "Ah,  I  have 
a  letter  here  from  my  father  that  I  have  not  yet  opened." 

He  took  it  from  the  table  as  he  spoke.  His  face 
darkened  as  he  read,  the  frown  and  stern  expression  re« 


226  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

minding  Elsie  of  some  of  the  scenes  in  her  early  days  ; 
but  he  handed  the  missive  to  Rose,  remarking,  in  a  calm, 
quiet  tone,  "  My  father  expects  me  to  be  as  strong  a  se- 
cessionist as  himself." 

"But  you're  for  the  Union,  papa,  are  you  not?" 
asked  Horace.  "  You'd  never  fire  upon  the  Stars  and 
Stripes — the  dear  old  flag  that  protects  us  here?  " 

"  No,  my  son.  I  love  the  dear  South,  which  has  al- 
ways been  my  home,  better  far  than  any  other  of  the 
sections;  yet  I  love  the  whole  better  than  a  part." 

"  So  do  I !  "  exclaimed  Rose  warmly;  "  and  if  Penn- 
sylvania, my  own  native  State,  should  rebel  against  the 
general  government,  I'd  say,  'Put  her  down  with  a 
strong  hand ' ;  and  just  so  with  any  State  or  section, 
Eastern,  Northern,  Middle  or  Western.  I've  always 
been  taught  that  my  country  is  the  Union ;  and  I  think 
that  teaching  has  been  general  through  the  North." 

"It  is  what  my  mother  taught  me,  and  what  I  have 
Jaught  my  children,"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore;  "not  to  love 
the  South  or  my  native  State  less,  but  the  Union 
more.  I  was  very  young  when  I  lost  my  mother;  but 
that,  and  some  other  of  her  teachings,  I  have  never  for- 
gotten." 

"  There  is,  I  believe,  a  strong  love  for  the  old  Union 
throughout  the  whole  South,"  remarked  Mr.  Travilla; 
"  there  would  be  no  rebellion  among  the  masses  there, 
but  for  the  deceptions  practised  upon  them  by  their  lead- 
ers and  politicians ;  and  it  is  they  who  have  been  whirl- 
ing the  States  out  of  the  Union,  scarce  allowing  the  peo- 
ple a  voice  in  the  matter." 

"  I  don't  wonder  at  the  indignation  of  the  North  over 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  227 

the  insult  to  the  flag,"  said  Elsie;  "nor  the  furor  for  it 
that  is  sweeping  over  the  land." 

' 'I'd  like  to  be  there  to  help  fling  it  to  the  breeze," 
cried  Horace  excitedly ;  "  and  to  see  how  gay  the  streets 
must  be  with  it  flying  everywhere.  Yes,  and  I'd  like  to 
help  fight.  Papa,  am  I  not  old  enough?  mayn't  I  go?" 

"No,  foolish  boy,  you  are  much  too  young,  not  yet 
fourteen.  And  suppose  you  were  old  enough,  would 
you  wish  to  fight  your  uncles  ?  kill  one  of  them,  perhaps  ? 
Uncle  Walter,  for  instance?  " 

"  Oh  papa,  no,  no,  no !  I  wouldn't  for  the  world 
hurt  one  hair  of  dear  Uncle  Wai's  head ;  no,  not  if  he 
were  the  hottest  kind  of  secessionist." 

"Kill  Uncle  Wai !  why  Horace,  how  could  you  ever 
think  of  such  a  thing?"  exclaimed  Rosebud.  "And 
mamma  and  sister  Elsie,  why  are  you  both  crying  so?" 

All  the  afternoon  the  elders  of  the  family  remained 
together,  talking  over  the  news — they  could  scarce  think 
or  speak  of  anything  else :  very  grave  and  sad  all  of 
them,  the  ladies  now  and  then  dropping  a  tear  or  two, 
while  each  paper  was  carefully  scanned  again  and  again, 
lest  some  item  on  the  all-absorbing  subject  might  have 
been  overlooked,  and  every  letter  that  had  any  bearing 
upon  it  read  and  re-read  till  its  contents  had  been  fully 
digested. 

May's  gave  a  graphic  account  of  the  excitement  in 
Philadelphia;  the  recruiting  and  drilling  of  troops,  the 
making  of  flags,  the  constant,  universal  singing  of  patri- 
otic songs,  etc.,  then  closed  with  the  story  of  the  sorrow- 
ful parting  with  the  dear  brothers  who  might  never  re« 
turn  from  the  battle-field. 


728  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

It  had  been  a  bright,  warm  day,  but  at  evening  the  sea 
breeze  came  in  cool  and  fresh  ;  thin  clouds  were  scudding 
across  the  sky,  hiding  the  stars  and  giving  but  a  faint 
and  fitful  view  of  the  young  moon  that  hung,  a  bright 
crescent,  amid  their  murky  folds. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  was  pacing  slowly  to  and  fro  upon  an 
open  colonnade  overlooking  the  bay.  He  walked  with 
bent  head  and  folded  arms,  as  one  in  painful  thought. 

A  slight  girlish  figure  came  gliding  towards  him  from 
the  open  doorway.  "  Papa,  dear,  dear  papa,"  mur- 
mured a  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  "  you  are  very 
sad  to-night;  would  that  your  daughter  could  comfort 
you  !  " 

He  paused  in  his  walk,  took  her  in  his  arms  and  folded 
her  close  to  his  heart. 

"  Thank  you,  darling.  Yes,  I  am  sad,  as  we  all  are. 
Would  that  I  could  comfort  you,  and  keep  all  sorrow 
from  your  life.  Nay,  that  is  not  a  right  wish,  for  'whom 
the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth,  and  scourgeth  every  son 
whom  He  receiveth.'  'As  many  as  I  love  I  rebuke  and 
chasten.'  " 

"Yes,  papa,  those  words  make  me  more  than  willing 
to  bear  trials.  But  oh,  how  dreadful,  how  dreadful,  to 
know  that  our  countrymen  are  already  engaged  in  spilling 
each  other's  blood  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  harrowing  enough ;  but  that  it  should  be 
also  our  near  and  dear  relations  !  Elsie,  I  am  thinking 
•of  my  young  brothers  :  they  are  not  Christians ;  nor  is 
my  poor  old  father.  How  can  they  bear  the  trials  just  at 
hand  ?  How  unfit  they  are  to  meet  death,  especially  in 
the  sudden,  awful  form  in  which  it  is  like  to  meet  those 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  229 

who  seek  the  battle-field.  Daughter,  you  must  help  me 
pray  for  them,  pleading  the  promise,  'If  two  of  you 
shall  agree.'  " 

"I  will,  papa;  and  oh,  I  do  feel  deeply  for  them. 
Poor  Walter  and  poor,  poor  grandpa.  I  think  he  loves 
you  best  of  all  his  sons,  papa;  but  it  would  be  very 
terrible  to  him  to  have  the  others  killed  or  maimed." 

"  Yes,  it  would  indeed.  Arthur  is  his  mother's  idol, 
and  I  dare  say  she  now  almost  regrets  that  he  has  now  so 
entirely  recovered  from  his  lameness  as  to  be  fit  for  the 
army." 

He  drew  her  to  a  seat.  "The  babies  are  in  bed,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"Yes,  papa;  I  left  my  darlings  sleeping  sweetly.  I 
am  trying  to  train  them  to  regular  habits  and  early  hours, 
as  you  did  me." 

"That  is  right." 

"  Papa,  it  is  so  sweet  to  be  a  mother !  to  have  my 
little  Elsie  in  my  lap,  as  I  had  but  a  few  moments  since, 
and  feel  the  clasp  of  her  arms  about  my  neck,  or  the  tiny 
hands  patting  and  stroking  my  face,  the  sweet  baby  lips 
showering  kisses  all  over  it,  while  she  coos  and  rejoices 
over  me ;  '  Mamma  !  mamma,  my  mamma  !  Elsie's  dear 
mamma!  Elsie' sown  sweet  pretty  mamma.'  Ah,  though 
our  hearts  ache  for  the  dear  land  of  our  birth,  we  still 
have  many  many  blessings  left." 

"We  have  indeed." 

Mr.  Travilla,  Rose,  and  Horace  now  joined  them,  and 
the  last-named  besieged  his  father  with  questions  about 
the  war  and  its  causes ;  all  of  which  were  patiently  an- 
swered to  the  best  of  Mr.  Dinsmore's  ability,  Mr.  Tra- 


230  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

villa  now  and  then  being  appealed  to  for  further  infer 
mation,  or  his  opinion,  while  the  ladies  listened  an<& 
occasionally  put  in  a  remark  or  a  query. 

From  that  day  the  mails  from  America  were  looked 
for  with  redoubled  anxiety  and  eagerness :  though  the 
war  news  was  always  painful,  whichever  side  had  gained 
a  victory  or  suffered  defeat. 

At  first,  papers  and  letters  had  been  received  from 
both  North  and  South,  giving  them  the  advantage  of 
hearing  the  report  from  each  side ;  but  soon  the  blockade 
shut  off  nearly  all  intercourse  with  the  South,  a  mail 
from  thence  reaching  them  only  occasionally,  by  means 
of  some  Confederate  or  foreign  craft  eluding  the  vigilance 
of  the  besieging  squadron. 

Early  in  June  there  came  a  letter  from  Miss  Stanhope, 
addressed  to  Elsie.  Like  all  received  from  America 
now,  it  dwelt  almost  exclusively  upon  matters  connected 
with  the  fearful  struggle  just  fairly  begun  between  the 
sections.  The  old  lady's  heart  seemed  full  of  love  for 
the  South,  yet  she  was  strongly  for  the  Union,  and  said  • 
she  should  be  so  if  any  other  section  or  State  rebelled. 

Lansdale  was  full  of  excitement,  flags  flying  every-  / 
where ;  they  had  one  streaming  across  from  the  top  of 
the  house,  and  another  from  a  tree  in  the  garden.  I 

Harry  had  enlisted  in  response  to  the  first  call  of 
troops,  and  was  now  away,  fighting  in  Virginia ;  while 
she,  praying  night  and  day  for  his  safety,  was,  with  most 
of  the  ladies  of  the  town,  busy  as  a  bee  knitting  stock- 
ings and  making  shirts  for  the  men  in  the  field,  and  pre- 
paring lint,  bandages,  and  little  dainties  for  the  sick  and 
wounded. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SECOND. 

"  Calm  me,  my  God,  and  keep  me  calm 

While  these  hot  breezes  blow ; 
Be  like  the  night-dew's  cooling  balm 
Upon  earth's  fevered  brow." 

— H.  BONAR. 

"  Fear  not;  I  will  help  thee." 

— ISAIAH  xiii.  13. 

"  DEAR  old  auntie  !  to  think  how  hard  at  work  for  her 
country  she  is,  while  I  sit  idle  here,"  sighed  Elsie,  clo- 
sing the  letter  after  reading  it  aloud  to  the  assembled 
family.  "Mamma,  papa,  Edward,  is  there  nothing  we 
can  do?" 

"  We  can  do  just  what  they  are  doing,"  replied  Rose 
with  energy.  "  I  wonder  I  had  not  thought  of  it  before ; 
shirts,  stockings,  lint,  bandages,  we  can  prepare  them 
all ;  and  send  with  them  such  fruits  and  delicacies  as  will 
carry  from  this  far-off  place.  What  say  you,  gentle- 
men?" 

"I  think  you  can,"  was  the  simultaneous  reply ;  Mr. 
Travilla  adding,  "  and  we  can  help  with  the  lint,  and  by 
running  the  sewing-machines.  I'd  be  glad  to  add  to  the 
comfort  of  the  poor  fellows  on  both  sides." 

"And  money  is  needed  by  their  aid  societies,"  added 
Mr.  Dinsmore. 

"And  I  can  send  that  !  "  Elsie  exclaimed  joyous!*" 

"Yes,  we  all  can,"  said  her  father. 
231 


232  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Several  busy  weeks  followed,  and  a  large  box  was 
packed  and  sent  off. 

"If  that  arrives  safely  we  will  send  another,"  they 
said ;  for  news  had  reached  them  that  such  supplies  were 
sorely  needed. 

"What!  at  it  again,  little  wife?"  queried  Mr.  Tra- 
villa,  entering  Elsie's  boudoir  the  next  morning,  to  find 
her  delicate  fingers  busy  with  knitting-needles  and  coarse 
blue  yarn. 

"Yes,  sir,"  she  said,  smiling  up  at  him,  "it  seems  a 
slight  relief  to  my  anxiety  about  my  country,  to  be  doing 
something,  if  it  is  only  this" 

"Ah!  then  I'll  take  lessons,  if  you,  or  Aunt  Chloe 
there  will  teach  me,"  he  returned,  laughingly  drawing  up 
a  chair  and  taking  a  seat  by  her  side.  "Mammy,  can 
you  supply  another  set  of  needles,  and  more  yarn  ?" 

"  Yes,  massa;  "  and  laying  down  the  stocking  she  was 
at  work  upon,  away  she  went  in  search  of  them. 

"Papa,  see!  so  pitty !  "  cried  a  little  voice;  and 
"wee  Elsie  "  was  at  his  knee,  with  a  diamond  necklace 
in  her  hand. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  gently  taking  it  from  her,  "but 
rather  too  valuable  a  plaything  for  my  little  pet.  How  did 
she  get  hold  of  it,  dearest  ?  "  he  asked,  turning  to  his  wife. 

"Mamma  say  Elsie  may.  Please,  papa,  let  Elsie 
have  it,"  pleaded  the  little  one  with  quivering  lip  and 
last-filling  eyes. 

"  I  gave  her  leave  to  look  over  the  contents  of  my 
jewel  box  ;  she  is  a  very  careful  little  body,  and  mammy 
and  I  are  both  on  the  watch  :  "  answered  mamma.  "  It 
is  a  great  treat  to  her ;  and  she  takes  up  only  one  article 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  233 

at  a  time,  examines  it  till  satisfied,  then  lays  it  back  ex- 
actly as  she  found  it.  So  please,  papa,  may  she  go  on  ?  " 

"  Yes,  if  mamma  gave  permission  it  is  all  right,  dar- 
ling," he  said,  caressing  the  child  and  returning  the 
necklace. 

"Tank  oo,  papa,  mamma;  Elsie  be  very  tareful 
mamma's  pitty  sings,"  she  cried  with  a  gleeful  laugh, 
holding  up  her  rosebud  mouth  for  a  kiss,  first  to  one, 
then  the  other. 

"Let  papa  see  where  you  put  it,  precious,"  he  said, 
following  her  as  she  tripped  across  the  room  and  seated 
herself  on  a  cushion  in  front  of  the  box. 

"  Dere,  papa,  dus  where  Elsie  dot  it,"  she  said,  laying 
it  carefully  back  in  its  proper  place.  "See,  so  many, 
many  pitty  sings  in  mamma's  box." 

"  Yes,"  he  said,  passing  his  eye  thoughtfully  from  one 
to  another  of  the  brilliant  collection  of  rings,  brooches, 
chains,  bracelets,  and  necklaces  sparkling  with  gems- 
diamonds,  rubies,  amethysts,  pearls,  emeralds,  and  other 
precious  stones.  "  Little  wife,  your  jewels  alone  are 
worth  what  to  very  many  would  be  a  handsome  fortune." 

"  Yes,  Edward,  and  is  it  not  really  a  pity  to  have  so 
much  locked  up  in  them?  " 

"  No,  it  is  a  good  investment ;  especially  as  things  are 
at  present." 

"  I  could  do  very  well  without  them ;  should  never 
have  bought  them  for  myself;  they  are  almost  all  your 
gifts  and  papa's,  or  his  purchases." 

Aunt  Chloe  had  returned  with  the  needles  and  yarn, 
and  now  Elsie  began  giving  the  lesson  in  knitting,  both 
she  and  her  pupil  making  very  merry  over  it. 


234  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Rose  and  Mr.  Dinsmore  presently  joined  them,  and 
the  latter,  not  to  be  outdone  by  his  son-in-law,  invited 
his  wife  to  teach  him. 

Horace  was  at  his  lessons,  but  Rosebud,  or  Rosie  as 
she  had  gradually  come  to  be  called,  soon  followed  her 
parents.  She  was  a  bright,  merry  little  girl  of  six,  very 
different  from  what  her  sister  had  been  at  that  age ;  full 
of  fun  and  frolicsome  as  a  kitten,  very  fond  of  her  father, 
liking  to  climb  upon  his  knee  to  be  petted  and  caressed, 
but  clinging  still  more  to  her  sweet,  gentle  mamma. 

Mr.  Travilla  and  she  were  the  best  of  friends ;  she 
was  devotedly  attached  to  her  sister,  and  considered  it 
"  very  nice  and  funny,"  that  she  was  aunt  to  wee  Elsie 
and  baby  Eddie. 

"  Oh,"  she  cried,  the  moment  she  came  into  the  room, 
"  what  is  wee  Elsie  doing  ?  Mamma,  may  I,  too  ?  " 

"  May  you  what?  "  asked  Rose. 

"  Why,  what  is  the  child  doing  ?  playing  with  your 
jewels,  Elsie?"  asked  Mr.  Dinsmore  in  a  tone  of  sur- 
prise, noticing  for  the  first  time  what  was  the  employment 
of  his  little  granddaughter. 

"  Yes,  papa ;  but  she  is  very  careful,  and  I  am  watch- 
ing  her." 

"I  should  not  allow  it,  if  she  were  my  child.  No, 
Rosie,  you  may  not;  you  are  not  a  careful  little  girl." 

Rosie  was  beginning  to  pout,  but  catching  the  stern 
look  in  her  father's  eye,  quickly  gave  it  up,  her  face 
clearing  as  if  by  magic. 

"Papa,"  Elsie  asked  in  a  low  tone,  "do  you  wish  me 
to  take  away  those  costly  playthings  from  my  little  girl  ?  " 

"My  dear  daughter,"  he  said,  smiling  tenderly  upon 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  203 

stood  on  Jordan's  very  brink,  its  cold  waters  already 
creeping  up  about  her  feet. 

Mr.  Dinsmore,  Mr.  Travilla,  and  Elsie  were  present ; 
also,  a  little  withdrawn  from  the  others,  Aunt  Chloe, 
Uncle  Joe,  and  a  few  of  the  old  house  servants  who  were 
Christians.  "  The  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together ;  the 
Lord  is  the  Maker  of  them  all." 

It  was  a  sweetly  solemn  service,  refreshing  to  the  soul 
of  each  one  there ;  most  of  all,  perhaps,  to  that  of  'her 
who  would  so  soon  be  casting  her  crown  at  the  Master's 
feet.  "I  am  almost  home,"  she  said  with  brightening 
countenance,  her  low,  sweet  voice  breaking  the  solemn 
stillness  of  the  room;  "I  am  entering  the  valley,  but 
without  fear,  for  Jesus  is  with  me.  I  hear  Him  saying 
to  me,  '  Fear  not ;  I  have  redeemed  thee ;  thou  art 
mine.'  " 

"He  is  all  your  hope  and  trust,  dear  friend,  is  He 
not?  "  asked  her  pastor. 

"All,  all;  His  blood  and  righteousness  are  all  my 
hope.  All  my  righteousnesses  are  as  filthy  rags ;  all  ray 
best  services  have  need  to  be  forgiven.  I  am  vile ;  but 
His  blood  deanseth  from  all  sin ;  and  He  has  washed 
me  in  it  and  made  me  mete  for  the  inheritance  of  the 
saints  in  light." 

"  Dear  sister,"  said  the  old  elder,  taking  her  hand  in  a 
last  farewell,  "good-bye  for  a  short  season  ;  'twill  not  be 
long  till  we  meet  before  the  throne.  Do  not  fear  to  cross 
the  river,  for  He  will  be  with  you,  and  will  not  let  you 
sink." 

"No;  the  everlasting  arms  are  underneath  and  around 
me,  and  He  will  never  leave  nor  forsake." 


204  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  '  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord  is  the  death  of 
His  saints,'  "  said  the  pastor,  taking  the  feeble  hand  in 
his  turn.  "  Fear  not ;  you  shall  be  more  than  conqueror 
through  Him  that  loved  us." 

"  Yes,  the  battle  is  fought,  the  victory  is  won ;  and  I 
hear  Him  saying  to  me,  '  Come  up  hither.'  Oh  !  I  shall 
be  there  very  soon — a  sinner  saved  by  grace." 

The  pastor  and  elder  withdrew,  Mr.  Travilla  going  with 
them  to  the  door.  Elsie  brought  a  cordial  and  held  it  to 
her  mother's  lips,  Mr.  Dinsmore  gently  raising  her  head. 
"  Thank  you  both,"  she  said,  with  the  courtesy  for  which 
she  had  ever  been  distinguished.  Then,  as  Mr.  Dins- 
more  settled  her  more  comfortably  on  her  pillows,  and 
Elsie  set  aside  the  empty  cup,  "  Horace,  my  friend,  fare- 
well till  we  meet  in  a  better  land.  Elsie,  darling,"  lay- 
ing her  pale  thin  hand  on  the  bowed  head,  "  you  have 
been  a  dear,  dear  daughter  to  me,  such  a  comfort,  such  a 
blessing  !  May  the  Lord  reward  you." 

Elsie  had  much  ado  to  control  her  feelings.  Her  fa- 
ther passed  his  arm  about  her  waist  and  made  her  rest 
her  head  upon  his  shoulder. 

"Mother,  how  are  you  now?"  asked  Mr.  Travilla, 
coming  in  and  taking  his  place  on  his  wife's  other  side, 
close  by  the  bed  of  the  dying  one. 

"All  is  peace,  peace,  the  sweetest  peace.  I  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  die,  I  am  in  the  river,  but  the  Lord 
upholdeth  me  with  His  hand,  and  I  have  almost  reached 
the  farther  shore." 

She  then  asked  for  the  babe,  kissed  and  blessed  it,  and 
bade  her  son  good-bye. 

"  Sing  to  me,  children,  the  twenty-third  psalm." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  205 

Controlling  their  emotion  by  a  strong  effort,  that  they 
might  minister  to  her  comfort,  they  sang;  the  three 
voices  blending  in  sweet  harmony. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  again,  as  the  last  strain  died 
away.  "  Hark  I  I  hear  sweeter,  richer  melody,  the 
angels  have  come  for  me,  Jesus  is  here.  Lord  Jesus  re- 
ceive my  spirit." 

There  was  an  enraptured  upward  glance,  an  ecstatic 
smile,  then  the  eyes  closed  and  all  was  still ;  without  a 
struggle  or  a  groan  the  spirit  had  dropped  its  tenement  of 
clay  and  sped  away  on  its  upward  flight. 

It  was  like  a  translation ;  a  deep  hush  filled  the  room, 
while  for  a  moment  they  seemed  almost  to  see  the  "glory 
that  dwelleth  in  Immanuel's  land."  They  scarcely  wept, 
their  joy  for  her,  the  ransomed  of  the  Lord,  almosl  swal- 
lowing up  their  grief  for  themselves. 

But  soon  Elsie  began  to  tremble  violently,  shudder 
after  shudder  shaking  her  whole  frame,  and  in  sudden 
alarm  her  husband  and  father  led  her  from  the  room. 

"  Oh,  Elsie,  my  darling,  my  precious  wife !  "  cried 
Travilla,  in  a  tone  of  agony,  as  they  laid  her  upon  a  sofa 
in  her  boudoir,  "are  you  ill  ?  are  you  in  pain? " 

"  Give  way,  daughter,  and  let  the  tears  come,"  said 
Mr.  Dinsmore,  tenderly  bending  over  her  and  gently 
smoothing  her  hair;  "  it  will  do  you  good,  bring  relief 
to  the  overstrained  nerves  and  full  heart." 

Even  as  he  spoke  the  barriers  which  for  so  many  hours 
had  been  steadily,  firmly  resisting  the  grief  and  anguish 
swelling  in  her  breast,  suddenly  gave  way,  and  tears 
poured  out  like  a  flood. 

Her  husband  knelt  by  her  side  and  drew  her  head  to  a 


206  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

resting-place  on  his  breast,  while  her  father,  with  one  of 
her  hands  in  his,  softly  repeated  text  after  text  speaking 
of  the  bliss  of  the  blessed  dead. 

She  grew  calmer.  "  Don't  be  alarmed  about  me,  dear 
Edward,  dear  papa,"  she  said  in  her  low  sweet  tones. 
, "  I  don't  think  I  am  ill ;  and  heavy  as  our  loss  is,  dear- 
jest  husband,  how  we  must  rejoice  for  her.  Let  me  go 
and  perform  the  last  office  of  love  for  her — our  precious 
mother ;  I  am  better ;  I  am  able." 

"No,  no,  you  are  not;  you  must  not,"  both  answered 
in  a  breath.  "Aunt  Dinah  and  Aunt  Chloe  will  do  it 
all  tenderly  and  lovingly  as  if  she  had  been  of  their  own 
flesh  and  blood,"  added  Mr.  Travilla,  in  trembling  tones. 


CHAPTER  TWENTIETH. 

'« There  are  smiles  and  tears  in  the  mother's  eyes 
For  her  new-born  babe  beside  her  lies  ; 
Oh,  heaven  of  bliss  !  when  the  heart  o'erflows 
With  the  rapture  a  mother  only  knows  !  " 

— HENRY  WARS,  JR. 

MRS.  TRA VILLA  was  laid  to  rest  in  their  own  family 
burial-ground,  her  dust  sleeping  beside  that  of  her  hus- 
band, and  children  who  had  died  in  infancy;  and 
daily  her  surviving  son  carried  his  little  daughter  thither 
to  scatter  flowers  upon  "dear  grandma's  grave." 

It  was  not  easy  to  learn  to  live  without  the  dear 
mother ;  they  missed  her  constantly.  Yet  was  their  sor- 
row nearly  swallowed  up  in  joy  for  her — the  blessed  dead 
who  had  departed  to  be  with  Christ  in  glory  and  to  go 
no  more  out  forever  from  that  blissful  presence. 

Then:  house  was  not  made  dark  and  gloomy,  the  sun- 
light and  sweet  spring  air  entered  freely  as  of  yore.  Nor 
did  they  suffer  gloom  to  gather  in  their  hearts  or  cloud 
their  faces.  Each  was  filled  with  thankfulness  for  the 
spared  life  of  the  other,  and  of  their  darling  little 
daughter. 

And  scarce  a  week  had  passed  away  since  heaven's 
portals  opened  wide  to  the  ransomed  soul,  when  a  new- 
voice — that  of  a  son  and  heir — was  heard  in  the  old 
home,  and  many  hearts  rejoiced  in  the  birth  of  the  beau- 
tiful boy. 

207 


208  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  God  has  sent  him  to  comfort  you  in  your  sorrow, 
dearest,"  Elsie  whispered,  as  her  husband  brought  the 
babe — fresh  from  its  first  robing  by  Aunt  Chloe's  careful 
hands — and  with  a  very  proud  and  happy  face  laid  it  in 
her  arms. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  in  moved  tones.  "Oh,  that  men 
would  praise  the  Lord  for  His  goodness,  and  for  His 
wonderful  works  to  the  children  of  men  !•" 

"  If  mother  could  only  have  seen  him  !  "  And  tears 
gathered  in  the  soft,  sweet  eyes  of  the  young  mother  gazing 
so  tenderly  upon  the  tiny  face  on  her  arm. 

"  She  will,  one  day,  I  trust;  I  have  been  asking  foi 
this  new  darling  that  he  may  be  an  heir  of  glory :  that 
he  may  early  be  gathered  into  the  fold  of  the  good  Shep- 
herd." 

"  And  I,  too,"  she  said,  "have  besought  my  precious 
Saviour  to  be  the  God  of  my  children  also  from  their 
birth." 

"What  do  you  intend  to  call  your  son ?  " 

"  What  do  you  ?  "  she  asked,  smiling  up  at  him. 

"  Horace,  for  your  father,  if  you  like." 

"And  I  had  thought  of  Edward,  for  his  father  and 
yours.  Horace  Edward.  Will  that  do?  " 

"  I  am  satisfied,  if  you  are.  But  Edward  would  do 
for  the  next." 

"  But  he  may  never  come  to  claim  it,"  she  said,  laugh- 
ing. "  Is  papa  in  the  house  ?  " 

"  Yes,  and  delighted  to  learn  that  he  has  a  grandson." 

"  Oh,  bring  him  here  and  let  me  see  the  first  meeting 
between  them." 

" Can  you  bear  the  excitement?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  209 

"  I  promise  not  to  be  excited  ;  and  it  always  does  me 
good  to  see  my  dear  father.  '  ' 

Mr.  Dinsmore  came  softly  in,  kissed  very  tenderly  the 
pale  face  on  the  pillow,  then  took  a  long  look  at  the  tiny 
pink  one  nestling  to  her  side. 

"  Ah,  isn't  he  a  beauty  ?  I  have  made  you  two  grand- 
fathers now,  you  dear  papa  !  "  she  said,  indulging  in  a 
little  jest  to  keep  down  the  emotions  tugging  at  her  heart- 
strings. "  Do  you  begin  to  feel  old  and  decrepit,  mon 


"Not  very,"  he  said  smiling,  and  softly  smoothing  her 
hair;  "not  more  so  to-day  than  I  did  yesterday.  But 
now  I  must  leave  you  to  rest  and  sleep.  Try,  my  dar- 
ling, for  all  our  sakes,  to  be  very  prudent,  very  calm  and 
quiet." 

"I  will,  papa;  and  don't  trouble  about  me.  You 
know  I  am  in  good  hands.  Ah,  stay  a  moment  !  here  is 
Edward  bringing  wee  bit  Elsie  to  take  her  first  peep  at 
her  little  brother." 

"Mamma,"  cried  the  child,  stretching  out  her  little 
arms  towards  the  bed,  "  mamma,  take  Elsie." 

"Mamma  can't,  darling;  poor  mamma  is  so  sick," 
said  Mr.  Travilla;  "stay  with  papa." 

"  But  she  shall  kiss  her  mamma,  dear,  precious  little 
pet,"  Elsie  said.  "Please  hold  her  close  for  a  minute, 
papa,  and  let  her  kiss  her  mother." 

He  complied  under  protest,  in  which  Mr.  Dinsmore 
joined,  that  he  feared  it  would  be  too  much  for  her  ;  and 
the  soft  baby  hands  patted  the  wan  cheeks,  the  tiny  rose- 
bud mouth  was  pressed  again  and  again  to  the  pale  lips, 
vith  rapturous  cooings,  "  Mamma,  mamma  !  " 


310  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"There,  pet,  that  will  do,"  said  her  father.  "Now, 
see  what  mamma  has  for  you." 

"Look,  mother's  darling,"  Elsie  said  with  a  glad 
smile,  exposing  to  view  the  tiny  face  by  her  side. 

"Baby!"  cried  the  little  girl,  with  a  joyous  shout, 
'clapping  her  chubby  hands,  "pretty  baby  Elsie  take"  \ 
.and  the  small  arms  were  held  out  entreatingly. 

"No,  Elsie  is  too  little  to  hold  it,"  said  her  papa; 
"but  she  may  kiss  it  very  softly." 

The  child  availed  herself  of  the  permission,  then 
gently  patting  the  newcomer,  repeated  her  glad  cry, 
"Baby,  pretty  baby." 

"Elsie's  little  brother,"  said  her  mamma,  tenderly. 
"Now,  dearest,  let  mammy  take  her  away,"  she  added, 
sinking  back  on  her  pillows  with  a  weary  sigh. 

He  complied,  then  bent  over  her  with  a  look  of  con- 
cern. "I  should  not  have  brought  her  in,"  he  said 
anxiously ;  "it  has  been  too  much  for  you."  \ 

"  But  I  wanted  so  to  see  her  delight.  One  more  kiss, 
papa,  before  you  go,  and  then  I'll  try  to  sleep." 

Elsie  did  not  recover  so  speedily  and  entirely  as  be- 
fore, after  the  birth  of  her  first  babe ;  and  those  to  whom 
she  was  so  dear  grew  anxious  and  troubled  about  her. 

"  You.  want  change,  daughter,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said, 
coming  in  one  morning  and  finding  her  lying  pale  and 
languid  on  a  sofa ;  "  and  we  are  all  longing  to  have  you 
at  home.  Do  you  feel  equal  to  a  drive  over  to  the 
Oaks?" 

"  I  think  I  do,  papa,"  she  answered,  brightening. 
"  Edward  took  me  for  a  short  drive  yesterday,  and  I  felt 
better  for  it." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  211 

"Then,  dearest,  come  home  to  your  father's  house 
and  stay  there  as  long  as  you  can ;  bring  babies  and 
nurses  and  come.  Your  own  suite  of  rooms  is  quite 
ready  for  you,"  he  said,  caressing  her  tenderly. 

"  Ah,  papa,  how  nice  to  go  back  and  feel  at  home  in 
my  own  father's  house  again,"  she  said,  softly  stroking 
his  head  with  her  thin  white  hand  as  he  bent  over  her, 
the  sweet  soft  eyes,  gazing  full  into  his,  brimming  over 
with  love  and  joy.  "  I  shall  go,  if  Edward  doesn't  ob- 
ject. I'd  like  to  start  this  minute.  But  you  haven't  told 
me  how  poor  mamma  is  to-day  ?  " 

"  Not  well,  not  very  much  stronger  than  you  are,  I 
fear,"  he  answered,  with  a  slight  sigh.  "But  your 
coming  will  do  her  a  world  of  good,  Where  is  Tra- 
villa?" 

"  Here,  and  quite  at  your  service,"  replied  Mr.  Tra- 
villa's  cheery  voice,  as  he  came  in  from  the  garden  with 
his  little  daughter  in  his  arms. 

He  set  her  down,  and  while  he  exchanged  greetings 
with  Mr.  Dinsmore,  she  ran  to  her  mother  with  a  bouquet 
of  lovely  sweet-scented  spring  blossoms  they  had  been 
gathering  "for  mamma." 

"Thank  you,  mother's  darling,"  Elsie  said,  accepting 
the  gift  and  tenderly  caressing  the  giver ;  "  you  and  papa, 
too.  But  see  who  is  here  ?  " 

The  child  turned  to  look,  and  with  a  joyous  cry 
"  G'anpa  !  "  ran  into  his  outstretched  arms. 

"Grandpa's  own  wee  pet,"  he  said,  hugging  the  little 
form  close  and  covering  the  baby  face  with  kisses. 
"  Will  you  come  and  live  with  grandpa  in  his  home  for 
awhile?" 


212  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Mamma?  papa  too?"  she  asked,  turning  a  wistful 
look  on  them. 

"  Oh,  yes;  yes  indeed,  mamma  and  papa  too." 

"Baby?" 

"  Yes,  baby  and  mammies  and  all.     Will  you  come?" 

"  May  Elsie,  mamma  ?  " 

"Yes,  pet;  we  will  all  go,  if  your  papa  is  willing." 
And  her  soft  eyes  sought  her  husband's  face  with  a  look 
of  love  and  confidence  that  said  she  well  knew  he  would 
never  deny  her  any  good  in  his  power  to  bestow. 

"  I  have  been  proposing  to  my  daughter  to  take  pos- 
session again,  for  as  long  a  time  as  she  finds  it  convenient 
and  agreeable,  of  her  old  suite  of  rooms  at  the  Oaks.  I 
think  the  change  would  do  her  good,  and  perhaps  you 
and  the  little  ones  also,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  explained. 

"Thank  you;  I  think  it  would.  When  will  you  go, 
little  wife?" 

"Papa  proposes  taking  me  at  once." 

"  My  carriage  is  at  the  door,  and  this  is  the  pleasantest 
part  of  the  day,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore. 

"  Ah,  yes;  then  take  E3sie  with  you,  and  I  will  follow 
shortly  with  children  and  servants.  There  is  no  reason 
in  the  world  why  she  should  not  go,  if  she  wishes,  and 
stay  as  long  as  she  likes." 

The  change  proved  beneficial  to  Elsie ;  it  was  so  pleas-, 
ant  to  find  herself  again  a  member  of  her  father's  family  j 
and  that  even  without  a  short  separation  from  her  hus- 
band and  little  ones. 

Here,  too,  absent  from  the  scenes  so  closely  associated 
with  the  memory  of  her  beloved  mother-in-law,  she  dwelt 
less  upon  her  loss,  while  at  the  same  time  she  was  enter* 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  213 

tained  and  cheered  by  constant  intercourse  with  father, 
Rose,  and  young  brother  and  sister.  It  was  indeed  a 
cheering  thing  to  all  parties  to  be  thus  brought  together 
for  a  time  as  one  family  in  delightful  social  intercourse. 

Yet,  though  the  invalids  improved  in  spirits,  and  to 
some  extent  in  other  respects,  they  did  not  regain  their 
usual  strength,  and  the  physicians  recommending  travel, 
particularly  a  sea  voyage,  it  was  finally  decided  to  again 
visit  Europe  for  an  indefinite  period,  the  length  of  their 
stay  to  depend  upon  circumstances. 

It  was  in  June,  1860,  they  left  their  homes;  and  travel- 
ing northward,  paid  a  short  visit  to  relatives  and  friends 
in  Philadelphia ;  then  took  the  steamer  for  Europe. 

A  few  weeks  later  found  them  cozily  established  in  a 
handsome  villa  overlooking  the  beautiful  bay  of  Naples. 

They  formed  but  one  family  here  as  at  the  Oaks ;  each 
couple  having  their  own  private  suite  of  apartments, 
while  all  other  rooms  were  used  in  common  and  their 
meals  taken  together ;  an  arrangement  preferred  by  all ; 
Mr.  Dinsmore  and  his  daughter  especially  rejoicing  in  it, 
as  giving  them  almost  as  much  of  each  other's  society  as 
before  her  marriage. 

In  this  lovely  spot  they  planned  to  remain  for  some 
months,  perchance  a  year ;  little  dreaming  that  five  years 
would  roll  their  weary  round  ere  they  should  see  home 
and  dear  native  land  again. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIRST. 

«*  He  who  loves  not  his  country  can  love  nothing." 

—BYRON. 

«*  There  were  sad  hearts  in  a  darken'd  home, 

When  the  brave  had  left  their  bower ; 
But  the  strength  of  prayer  and  sacrifice 
Was  with  them  in  that  hour." 

—MRS,  HEMANS. 

THE  sea  voyage  had  done  much  for  the  health  of  both 
ladies,  and  the  soft  Italian  air  carried  on  the  cure.  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  too,  had  recovered  his  usual  strength,  for  the 
first  time  since  his  attack  of  fever. 

There  was  no  lack  of  good  society  at  their  command ; 
good  both  socially  and  intellectually.  American,  Eng- 
lish, Italian,  French,  etc.  ;  many  former  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances and  others  desiring  to  be  introduced  by 
these ;  but  none  of  our  party  felt  disposed  at  that  time  to 
mix  much  with  the  outside  world. 

Elsie's  deep  mourning  was  for  her  sufficient  excuse 
for  declining  all  invitations ;  while  Rose  could  plead  her 
still  precarious  state  of  health. 

She  wore  no  outward  badge  of  mourning  for  Mrs. 
Travilla,  but  felt  deep  and  sincere  grief  at  her  loss ;  for 
the  two  had  been  intimate  and  dear  friends  for  many 
years,  the  wide  disparity  in  age  making  their  intercourse 
and  affection  much  like  that  of  mother  and  daughter. 

The  condition  of  political  affairs  in  their  own  country 
was  another  thing  that  caused  our  friends  to  feel  more 
214 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  215 

exclusive  and  somewhat  reluctant  to  mingle  with  those  of 
other  nationalities.  Every  mail  brought  them  letters  and 
papers  from  both  North  and  South,  and  from  their  dis- 
tant standpoint  they  watched  with  deep  interest  and  anx- 
iety the  course  of  events  fraught  with  such  momentous 
consequences  to  their  native  land. 

Neither  Mr.  Dinsmore  nor  Mr.  Travilla  had  ever  been 
a  politician;  but  both  they  and  their  wives  were  dear 
lovers  of  their  country,  by  which  they  meant  the  whole 
Union.  The  three  who  were  natives  of  the  South  ac- 
knowledged that  that  section  was  dearer  to  them  than 
any  other,  but  that  the  whole  was  nearer  and  dearer  than 
any  part ;  while  Rose  said  "  she  knew  no  difference ;  it 
was  all  her  own  beloved  native  land,  to  her  mind  one 
and  indivisible." 

They  led  a  cheerful,  quiet  life  in  their  Italian  home, 
devoting  themselves  to  each  other  and  their  children  ; 
Mr.  Dinsmore  acting  the  part  of  tutor  to  young  Horace, 
as  he  had  done  to  Elsie. 

Her  little  ones  were  the  pets  and  playthings  of  the  en- 
tire household,  while  she  and  their  father  found  the 
sweetest  joy  in  caring  for  them  and  watching  over  and 
assisting  the  development  of  their  natures,  mental,  moral, 
and  physical.  Their  children  would  never  be  left  to  the 
care  and  training  of  servants,  however  faithful  and 
devoted. 

Nor  would  those  of  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Rose.  In  the 
esteem  of  these  wise.  Christian  parents  the  God-given 
charge  of  their  own  offspring  took  undoubted  precedence 
of  the  claims  of  society. 

Thus  placidly  passed  the  summer  and  autumn,  tne 


216  ELBE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

monotony  of  their  secluded  life  relieved  by  the  enjoy- 
ment  of  literary  pursuits,  and  varied  by  walks,  rides, 
drives,  and  an  occasional  sail,  in  bright,  still  weather, 
over  the  waters  of  the  lovely  bay. 

Elsie  entered  the  drawing-room  one  morning,  with 
the  little  daughter  in  her  arms.  The  child  was  beautiful 
as  a  cherub,  the  mother  sweet  and  fair  as  ever,  nor  a  day 
older  in  appearance  than  while  yet  a  girl  in  her  father's 
house. 

She  found  him  sole  occupant  of  the  room,  pacing  to 
and  fro  with  downcast  eyes  and  troubled  countenance. 
But  looking  up  quickly  at  the  sound  of  her  footsteps  he 
came  hastily  towards  her. 

"Come  to  grandpa,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hands 
to  the  little  one;  then  as  he  took  her  in  his  arms, 
"My  dear  daughter,  if  I  had  any  authority  over  you 
now " 

"Papa,"  she  interrupted,  blushing  deeply,  while  the 
quick  tears  sprang  to  her  eyes,  "  you  hurt  me  !  Please 
don't  speak  so.  I  am  as  ready  now  as  ever  to  obey  your 
slightest  behest." 

"  Then,  my  darling,  don't  carry  this  child.  You  are 
not  strong,  and  I  fear  will  do  yourself  an  injury.  She 
can  walk  very  well  now,  and  if  necessary  to  have  her 
carried,  call  upon  me,  her  father,  or  one  of  the  servants ; 
Aunt  Chloe,  Uncle  Joe,  Dinah,  one  or  another  is  almost ' 
sure  to  be  at  hand." 

"  I  will  try  to  follow  out  your  wishes,  papa.  Edward 
has  said  the  same  thing  to  me,  and  no  doubt  you  are 
right ;  but  it  is  so  sweet  to  have  her  in  my  arms,  and  so 
bard  to  refuse  when  she  asks  to  be  taken  up." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  217 

"  You  mustn't  ask  mamma  to  carry  you,"  Mr.  Dins- 
more  said  to  the  child,  caressing  her  tenderly  as  he 
spoke;  "poor  mamma  is  not  strong,  and  you  will  make 
her  sick." 

.  They  had  seated  themselves  side  by  side  upon  a  sofa. 
The  little  one  turned  a  piteous  look  upon  her  mother, 
and  with  a  quivering  lip  and  fast-filling  eyes,  said, 
" Mamma  sick?  Elsie  tiss  her,  make  her  well?  " 

"No,  my  precious  pet,  mother  isn't  sick;  so  don't 
cry,"  Elsie  answered,  receiving  the  offered  kiss,  as  the 
babe  left  her  grandfather's  knee  and  crept  to  her ;  then 
the  soft  little  hands  patted  her  on  the  cheeks  and  the 
chubby  arms  clung  about  her  neck. 

But  catching  sight,  through  the  open  window,  of  her 
father  coming  up  the  garden  walk,  wee  Elsie  hastily 
let  go  her  hold,  slid  to  the  floor  and  ran  to  meet  him. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  seemed  again  lost  in  gloomy  thought. 

"Papa,  dear,  wh?.t  is  it?  What  troubles  you  so?" 
asked  Elsie,  moving  closer  to  him,  and  leaning  affection- 
ately on  his  shoulder,  while  the  soft  eyes  sought  his  with 
a  wistful,  anxious  expression. 

He  put  his  arm  about  her,  and  just  touching  her  cheek 
with  his  lips,  heaved  a  deep  sigh.  "  The  papers  bring 
us  bad  news.  Lincoln  is  elected." 

"  Ah  well,  let  us  not  borrow  trouble,  papa ;  perhaps 
he  may  prove  a  pretty  good  president  after  all." 

"  Just  what  I  think,"  remarked  Mr.  Travilla,  who  had 
come  in  with  his  little  girl  in  his  arms  at  the  moment  of 
Mr.  Dinsmore's  announcement,  and  seated  himself  on 
his  wife's  other  aide;  " let  us  wait  and  see.  All  may  go 
right  with  our  country  yet.'' 


218  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head  sadly.  "  I  wish  I 
could  think  so,  but  in  the  past  history  of  all  repub- 
lics whenever  section  has  arrayed  itself  against  section 
the  result  has  been  either  a  peaceful  separation,  or 
civil  war ;  nor  can  we  hope  to  be  an  exception  to  the 
rule."  I 

"I  should  mourn  over  either,"  said  Elsie.  "lean- 
not  bear  to  contemplate  the  dismemberment  of  our 
great,  glorious  old  Union.  Foreign  nations  would 
never  respect  either  portion  as  they  do  the  undivided 
whole." 

"No;  and  I  can't  believe  either  section  can  be  so 
mad  as  to  go  that  length,"  remarked  her  husband,  fond- 
ling his  baby  daughter  as  he  spoke.  "  The  North,  of 
course,  does  not  desire  a  separation ;  but  if  the  South 
goes,  will  be  pretty  sure  to  let  her  go  peaceably." 

"  I  doubt  it,  Travilla;  and  even  if  a  peaceable  separa- 
tion should  be  allowed  at  first,  so  many  causes  of  con- 
tention would  result  (such  as  the  control  of  the  naviga- 
tion of  the  Mississippi,  the  refusal  of  the  North  to  restore 
runaway  negroes,  etc.,  etc.),  that  it  would  soon  come  to 
blows." 

"  Horace,  you  frighten  me,"  said  Rose,  who  had  come 
in  while  they  were  talking. 

The  color  faded  from  Elsie's  cheek,  and  a  shudder 
ran  over  her,  as  she  turned  eagerly  to  hear  her  husband, 
reply.  ! 

"  Why  cross  the  bridge  before  we  come  to  it,  Dins- 
more?"  he  answered  cheerily,  meeting  his  wife's  anxious 
look  with  one  so  fond  and  free  from  care,  that  her  heart 
grew  light;  "  surely  there'll  be  no  fighting  where  there 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  235 

her,  "I  have  neither  the  right  nor  the  wish  to  interfere 
with  you  and  your  children  ;  especially  when  your  hus- 
band approves  of  your  management.  I  only  fear  you 
may  suffer  loss.  How  easy  a  valuable  ring  may  slip 
through  the  little  fingers  and  roll  away  into  some  crevice 
where  it  would  never  be  found." 

"I'm  afraid  it  is  rather  hazardous,"  she  acknowledged. 
"Mammy,  sit  close  to  Elsie  and  keep  a  careful  watch, 
lest  she  should  drop  something." 

"  I  begin  to  think  there's  truth  in  the  old  saw,  '  It's 
hard  to  teach  old  dogs  new  tricks,'  "  remarked  Mr.  Tra- 
villa,  with  a  comically  rueful  face.  "  I've  a  mind  to  give 
it  up.  What  do  you  say,  Dinsmore  ?  " 

"  That  you  wouldn't  make  a  good  soldier,  if  you  are 
so  easily  conquered,  Travilla." 

"  Oh,  fighting's  another  thing,  but  I'll  per-r/ere  as 
long  as  you  do;  unless  I  find  I'm  wearying  my  teacher." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  learn  faster  with  a  better  teacher," 
said  Elsie,  "I'm  sure  the  fault  is  not  in  the  scholar;  be- 
cause I  know  he's  bright  and  talented." 

"Ah  !  then  I  shall  try  harder  than  ever,  to  save  your 
reputation  ;  but  take  a  recess  now,  for  here  comes  my 
boy,  reaching  out  his  arms  to  papa.  Bring  him  here, 
Dinah.  Papa's  own  boy,  he  looks  beautiful  and  as 
bright  as  the  day." 

"  Mamma  thinks  he's  a  very  handsome  mixture  of 
papa  and  grandpa,"  Elsie  said,  leaning  over  to  caress 
the  babe,  now  crowing  in  his  father's  arms. 

"I'm  afraid  he  inherits  too  much  of  his  grandpa's 
temper,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  but  wr'th  a  glance  of 
loving  pride  bestowed  upon  the  beautiful  babe. 


236  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

'•'  I,  for  one,  have  no  objection,  provided  he  learns  to 
control  it  as  well,"  said  Mr.  Travilla;  "he  will  make 
the  finer  character." 

Little  Elsie  had  grown  weary  of  her  play. 

"Put  box  way  now,  mammy,"  she  said,  getting  up 
from  her  cushion;  "wee  Elsie  don't  want  any  more. 
Mamma  take;  Elsie  so  tired." 

The  baby  voice  sounded  weak  and  languid,  and  totter- 
ing to  her  mother's  side,  she  almost  fell  into  her  lap. 

"Oh,  my  baby!  my  precious  darling,  what  is  it?" 
cried  Elsie,  catching  her  up  in  her  arms.  "Papa  !  Ed- 
ward !  she  is  dying  !  " 

For  the  face  had  suddenly  lost  all  its  color ;  the  eyes 
were  rolled  upward,  the  tiny  fists  tightly  clenched,  and 
the  little  limbs  had  grown  stiff  and  rigid  on  the  mother's 
lap. 

Mr.  Travilla  hastily  set  down  the  babe,  and  turned  to 
look  at  his  little  girl,  his  face  full  of  alarm  and  distress. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  sprang  to  his  daughter's  side,  and  meet- 
ing her  look  of  agony,  said  soothingly,  "  No,  dearest,  it 
is  a  spasm,  she  will  soon  be  over  it." 

"Yes;  don't  be  so  terrified,  dear  child,"  said  Rose, 
dropping  her  work  and  hurrying  to  Elsie's  assistance ; 
"  they  are  not  unusual  with  children;  I  have  seen  both 
May  and  Daisy  have  them.  Quick,  Aunt  Chloe  !  a 
cloth  dipped  in  spirits  of  turpentine,  to  lay  over  the 
stomach  and  bowels,  and  another  to  put  between  her 
shoulders.  It  is  the  best  thing  we  can  do  till  we  get  a 
doctor  here.  But,  ah,  see  !  it  is  already  passing  away." 

That  was  true ;  the  muscles  were  beginning  to  relax, 
and  in  another  moment  the  eyes  resumed  their  natural 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  237 

appearance,  the  hands  weic  no  longer  clenched,  and  a 
low  plaintive,  "Mamma,"  came  from  the  little  lips. 

"Mamma  is  here,  darling,"  Elsie  said,  amid  her  fast- 
dropping  tears,  covering  the  little  wan  face  with  kisses, 
as  she  held  it  to  her  bosom. 

"  Thank  God  !  she  is  still  ours  !  "  exclaimed  the  fa- 
ther, almost  under  his  breath ;  then,  a  little  louder, 
"  Elsie,  dear  wife,  I  shall  go  at  once  for  Dr.  Channing, 
an  English  physician  who  has  been  highly  recommended 
to  me." 

"  Do,  dear  husband,  and  urge  him  to  come  at  once," 
she  answered,  in  a  tone  full  of  anxiety. 

He  left  the  room,  returning  with  the  physician  within 
half  an  hour,  to  find  the  little  girl  asleep  on  her  mother's 
breast. 

"  Ah,  I  hope  she  is  not  going  to  be  very  ill,"  said  the 
doctor,  taking  gentle  hold  of  her  tiny  wrist.  "  She 
seems  easy  now,  and  her  papa  tells  me  the  spasm  was  of 
very  short  duration." 

She  woke,  apparently  free  from  suffering,  allowed  her 
papa  to  take  her,  that  mamma's  weary  arms  might  rest, 
and  in  the  course  of  the  afternoon  even  got  down  from 
his  knee,  and  played  about  the  room  for  a  little  while, 
but  languidly,  and  was  soon  quite  willing  to  be  nursed 
again,  "papa,  grandpa,  and  Mamma  Rose,"  as  she  lov- 
ingly called  her  young  and  fair  step-grandmother,  taking 
turns  in  trying  to  relieve  and  amuse  her. 

She  was  a  most  affectionate,  unselfish  little  creature, 
and  though  longing  to  lay  again  her  weary  little  head  on 
mamma's  breast,  and  feel  the  enfolding  of  mamma's  dear 
arms,  gave  up  without  a  murmur,  when  told  that  "poor 


238  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

mamma  was  tired  with  holding  so  big  a  girl  for  so  long," 
and  quietly  contented  herself  with  the  attention  of  the 
others. 

As  the  early  evening  hour  which  was  the  children's  bed- 
time drew  near,  Elsie  took  her  little  girl  again  on  her  lap. 

"  Mamma,  pease  talk  to  Elsie,"  pleaded  the  sweet  baby 
voice,  while  the  curly  head  fell  languidly  upon  her  shoul- 
der, and  a  tiny  hand,  hot  and  dry  with  fever,  softly 
patted  her  cheek. 

"  What  about,  darling?  " 

"  'Bout  Jesus,  mamma.  Do  He  love  little  chillens  ? 
do  he  love  wee  Elsie  ?  " 

The  gentle  voice  that  answered  was  full  of  tears. 
"  Yes,  darling,  mamma  and  papa,  and  dear  grandpa 
too,  love  you  more  than  tongue  can  tell,  but  Jesus  loves 
you  better  still." 

"  Mamma,  may  Elsie  go  dere?  " 

"  Where,  my  precious  one  ?  " 

"To  Jesus,  mamma;  Elsie  want  to  go  see  Jesus." 

A  sharp  pang  shot  through  the  young  mother's  heart, 
and  her  arms  tightened  their  clasp  about  the  little  form, 
while  the  hot  tears  chased  each  other  adown  her  cheeks. 
One  fell  on  the  child's  face. 

}  "What!  mamma  ky?  Mamma  don't  want  Elsie  to 
go  see  Jesus  ?  Den  Elsie  will  stay  wis  mamma  and  papa. 
Don't  ky,  Elsie's  mamma;  "  and  feebly  the  little  hand 
tried  to  wipe  away  her  mother's  tears. 

With  a  silent  prayer  for  help  to  control  her  emotion, 
Elsie  cleared  her  voice,  and  began  in  low,  sweet  tones  the 
old,  old  story  of  Jesus  and  His  love,  His  birth,  His  life, 
His  death. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  239 

" Mamma,  Elsie  do  love  Jesus!"  were  the  earnest 
words  that  followed  the  close  of  the  narrative.  "  Say 
prayer  now,  and  go  bed.  Elsie  feel  sick.  Mamma,  stay 
wis  Elsie?" 

"  Yes,  my  precious  one,  mamma  will  stay  close  beside 
her  darling  as  long  as  she  wants  her.  You  may  say  yout 
little  prayer  kneeling  in  mamma's  lap ;  and  then  she  will 
sing  you  to  sleep." 

"Jesus  like  Elsie  do  dat  way ? " 

"Yes,  darling,  when  she's  sick." 

Mamma's  arms  encircled  and  upheld  the  little  form, 
the  chubby  hands  were  meekly  folded,  and  the  soft 
cheek  rested  against  hers,  while  the  few  words  of  prayer 
faltered  on  the  baby  tongue. 

Then,  the  posture  changed  to  a  more  restful  one,  the 
sweet  voice  still  full  of  tears,  and  often  trembling  with 
emotion,  sang  the  little  one  to  sleep. 

Laying  her  gently  in  her  crib,  Elsie  knelt  beside  it, 
sending  up  a  petition  with  strong  crying  and  tears ;  not 
that  the  young  life  might  be  spared,  unless  the  will  of 
God  were  so,  but  that  she  might  be  enabled  to  say,  with 
all  her  heart,  "  Thy  will  be  done." 

Ere  she  had  finished,  her  husband  knelt  beside  her  ask- 
ing the  same  for  her  and  himself. 

They  rose  up  together,  and  folded  to  his  heart,  she 
wept  out  her  sorrow  upon  his  breast. 

"You  are  very  weary,  little  wife,"  he  said  tenderly, 
passing  his  hand  caressingly  over  her  hair  and  pressing 
bis  Mps  again  and  again  to  the  heated  brow. 

"It  is  rest  to  lay  my  head  here,"  she  whispered. 

"  But  you  must  not  stand ;  "  and  sitting  down  he 


240  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

drew  her  to  the  sofa,  still  keeping  his  arm  about  her 
waist.  "Bear  up,  dear  wife,"  he  said,  "we  will  hope 
our  precious  darling  is  not  very-  ill." 

She  told  him  of  the  child's  words,  and  the  sad  fore- 
boding that  had  entered  her  own  heart. 

"While  there  is  life  there  is  hope,  dearest,"  he  said, 
with  assumed  cheerfulness.  "  Let  us  not  borrow  trouble. 
Does  He  not  say  to  us,  as  to  the  disciples  of  old,  '  It  is  I, 
be  not  afraid '  ?  " 

"  Yes  ;  and  she  is  His  ;  only  lent  to  us  for  a  season  ; 
and  we  dare  not  rebel  should  He  see  fit  to  recall  His  own," 
she  answered,  amid  her  tears.  "Oh,  Edward,  I  am  so 
glad  we  indulged  her  this  morning  in  her  wish  to  play 
with  my  jewels  !  " 

"Yes;  she  is  the  most  precious  of  them  all,"  he  said 
with  emotion. 

Aunt  Chloe,  drawing  near,  respectfully  suggested  that 
it  might  be  well  to  separate  the  children,  in  case  the  little 
girl's  illness  should  prove  to  be  contagious. 

"That  is  a  wise  thought,  mammy,"  said  Elsie.  "  Is 
it  not,  Edward  ? ' ' 

"  Yes,  wife;  shall  we  take  our  little  daughter  to  our 
own  bedroom,  and  leave  Eddie  in  possession  of  the  nurs- 
ery?" 

"  Yes,  I  will  never  leave  her  while  she  is  ill." 

Weeks  of  anxious  solicitude,  of  tenderest,  most  care- 
ful nursing,  followed ;  for  the  little  one  was  very  ill,  and 
for  some  time  grew  worse  hour  by  hour.  For  days  there 
was  little  hope  that  her  life  would  be  spared,  and  a 
solemn  silence  reigned  through  the  house;  even  the 
romping,  fun-loving  Horace  and  Rosie,  awe-struck  into 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  241 

stillness,  and  often  shedding  tears — Horace  in  private, 
fearing  to  be  considered  unmanly,  but  Rosie  openly  and 
without  any  desire  of  concealment — at  the  thought  that 
the  darling  of  the  house  was  about  to  pass  away  from 
earth. 

Rose  was  filled  with  grief,  the  father,  and  grand- 
father were  almost  heart-broken.  But  the  mother ! 
That  first  night  she  had  scarcely  closed  an  eye,  but  con- 
tinually her  heart  was  going  up  in  earnest  supplications 
for  grace  and  strength  to  meet  this  sore  trial  with  patience, 
calmness,  and  submission. 

And  surely  the  prayer  was  heard  and  answered ;  day 
and  night  she  was  with  her  suffering  little  one,  watching 
beside  its  crib,  or  holding  it  in  her  arms,  soothing  it  with 
tender  words  of  mother  love,  or  singing,  in  low  sweet 
tones,  of  Jesus  and  the  happy  land. 

Plenty  of  excellent  nurses  were  at  hand,  more  than 
willing  to  relieve  her  of  her  charge ;  but  she  would  re- 
linquish it  to  no  one ;  except  when  compelled  to  take  a 
little  rest  that  her  strength  might  not  utterly  fail  her. 
Even  then  she  refused  to  leave  the  room,  but  lay  where 
the  first  plaintive  cry,  "  Mamma,"  would  rouse  her  and 
bring  her  instantly  to  her  darling's  side. 

At  times  the  big  tears  might  be  seen  coursing  down  her 
cheek,  as  she  gazed  mournfully  upon  the  baby  face  so 
changed  from  what  it  was  ;  but  voice  and  manner  were 
quiet  and  composed. 

Her  husband  was  almost  constantly  at  her  side,  shar- 
ing the  care,  the  grief  and  anxiety,  and  the  nursing,  so 
far  as  she  would  let  him.  Rose,  too,  and  Mr.  Dinsmore, 
were  there  every  hour  of  the  day,  and  often  in  the  night, 


242  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

scarcely  less  anxious  and  grief-stricken  than  the  parents, 
and  Mr.  Dinsmore  especially,  trembling  for  the  life  and 
health  of  the  mother  as  well  as  the  child. 

At  length  came  a  day  when  all  knew  and  felt  that 
wee  Elsie  was  at  the  very  brink  of  the  grave,  and 
the  little  thread  of  life  might  snap  asunder  at  any  mo- 
ment. 

She  lay  on  her  pillow  on  her  mother's  lap,  the 
limbs  shrunken  to  half  their  former  size,  the  face,  but 
lately  so  beautiful  with  the  bloom  of  health,  grown 
wan  and  thin,  with  parched  lips  and  half-closed,  dreamy 
eyes. 

Mr.  Travilla  sat  close  beside  them,  with  cup  and  spoon 
in  hand,  now  and  then  moistening  the  dry  lips.  Chloe, 
who  had  stationed  herself  a  little  behind  her  mistress  to 
be  within  call,  was  dropping  great  tears  on  the  soldier'? 
stocking  in  her  hand. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  came  softly  in  and  stood  by  the  little 
group,  his  features  working  with  emotion.  "  My 
darling,"  he  murmured,  "my  precious  daughter,  may 
God  comfort  and  sustain  you." 

"He  does,  papa,"  she  answered  in  low,  calm  tones, 
as  she  raised  her  head  and  lifted  her  mournful  eyes  to 
his  face;  "His  consolations  are  not  small  in  the  trying 
hour." 

"You  can  give  her  up?"  he  asked,  in  a  choking 
voice,  looking  with  anguish  upon  the  wasted  features  of 
his  almost  idolized  grandchild. 

"Yes,  papa — if  He  sees  fit  to  take  her;  'twere  but 
selfishness  to  want  to  keep  her  here.  So  safe,  so  happy 
will  she  be  in  Jesus'  arms." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  343 

A*lr.  Travilla's  frame  shook  with  emotion,  and  Mr. 
Dinsmore  was  not  less  agitated;  but  the  mother  was 
still  calm  and  resigned. 

No  sound  had  come  from  those  little  lips  for  hours ; 
but  now  there  was  a  faintly  murmured  "  Mamma  !  " 

"Yes,  darling,  mamma  is  here,"  Elsie  answered, 
softly  pressing  a  kiss  on  the  white  brow;  "what  shall 
mamma  do  for  her  baby?  " 

"Jesus  loves  wee  Elsie?"  and  the  dreamy  eyes  m> 
closed  and  looked  up  into  the  sweet  pale  face  bent  so 
lovingly  over  her.  "  Elsie  so  glad.  Mamma  sing 
'  Happy  land.'  " 

The  young  mother's  heart  was  like  to  burst,  but  with 
a  silent  prayer  for  strength,  she  controlled  herself  and 
sang  low  and  sweetly,  and  even  as  she  sang  a  change 
came  over  the  child,  and  it  fell  into  a  deep,  calm,  natural 
sleep  that  lasted  for  hours.  All  the  time  on  the  mother's 
lap,  her  eyes  scarce  moving  from  the  dear  little  face; 
her  breath  almost  suspended,  lest  that  life-giving  slumber 
should  be  broken. 

In  vain  husband  and  father  in  turn  entreated  to  be 
allowed  to  relieve  her. 

"No,  oh  no!"  she  whispered.  "I  cannot  have  her 
disturbed;  it  might  cost  her  life." 

This  was  the  turning  point  in  the  disease,  and  from 
that  time  the  little  one  began  to  amend.  But  very  weak 
and  frail,  she  was  still  in  need  of  weeks  of  continued 
tender,  careful  nursing. 

"  Mamma's  lap  "  was  the  place  preferred  above  all  oth' 
ers;  but  patient  and  unselfish,  she  yielded  without  i. 
murmur  when  invited  to  the  arms  of  papa,  grandpa, 


244  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Rose,  or  nurse,  and  told  that  "dear  mamma  was  tired 
and  needed  rest." 

Elsie  was  indeed  much  reduced  in  health  and  strength ; 
but  love,  joy,  and  thankfulness  helped  her  to  recuperate 
rapidly. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THIRD. 

«•  What  fates  impose,  that  men  must  needs  abide. 
It  boots  not  to  resist  both  wind  and  tide." 

— SHAKESPEARE'S  HENRY  VI. 

FROM  the  time  of  Mr.  Lincoln's  election  Walter  Dins- 
more's  home  had  been  made  very  uncomfortable  to 
him;  after  the  fall  of  Sumter  it  was  well-nigh  unen- 
durable. 

Never  were  two  brothers  more  entirely  unlike  than  he 
and  Arthur;  the  latter,  selfish,  proud,  haughty,  self- 
willed,  passionate,  and  reckless  of  consequences  to  him- 
self or  others ;  the  former  sweet-tempered,  amiable,  and 
affectionate,  but  lacking  in  firmness  and  self-reliance. 

Poor  fellow !  his  heart  was  divided ;  on  the  one  side 
were  home,  parents,  friends,  and  neighbors,  native  State 
and  section ;  on  the  other,  pride  in  the  great,  powerful 
Union  he  had  hitherto  called  his  country,  love  for  the 
old  flag  as  the  emblem  of  its  greatness  and  symbol  of 
Revolutionary  glory ;  and — perhaps  more  potent  than  all 
— the  wishes  and  entreaties  of  a  Northern  girl  who  had 
won  his  heart  and  promised  him  her  hand. 

One  April  morning  Walter,  who  had  overslept  himself, 
having  been  up  late  the  night  before,  was  roused  from 
his  slumbers  by  a  loud  hurrah  coming  from  the  veranda 
below.  He  recognized  his  father's  voice,  Arthur's,  and 
that  of  one  of  the  latter's  particular  friends,  a  hot  seces- 
sionist  residing  in  the  adjacent  city. 
24S 


346  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

There  seemed  a  great  tumult  in  the  house,  running  to 
and  fro,  loud  laughter,  repeated  hurrahs  and  voices — 
among  which  his  mother's  and  Enna's  were  easily  dis- 
tinguished— talking  in  high,  excited  chorus. 

"  So  Fort  Sumter  has  fallen,  and  war  is  fairly  inaugu- 
rated," he  sighed  to  himself,  as  he  rose  and  began  to 
dress.  "  It  can  mean  nothing  else." 

"Glorious  news,  Wai !  "  cried  Arthur,  catching  sight 
of  him  as  he  descended  the  stairs;  "Fort  Sumter  has 
fallen  and  Charleston  is  jubilant.  Here,  listen  while  I 
read  the  despatch." 

Walter  heard  it  in  grave  silence,  and  at  the  close 
merely  inquired  how  the  news  had  come  so  early. 

"Johnson  brought  it;  has  gone  on  now  to  Ashlands 
with  it ;  says  the  city's  in  a  perfect  furor  of  delight. 
But  you,  it  seems,  care  nothing  about  it,"  Arthur  con- 
cluded with  a  malignant  sneer. 

" Not  a  word  of  rejoicing  over  this  glorious  victory" 
—cried  Enna  angrily. 

"  Of  seven  thousand  over  seventy-five  ?  " 

"If  I  were  papa,  I'd  turn  you  out  of  the  house;  "  she 
exclaimed  still  more  hotly. 

"Walter,  I  have  ne  patience  with  you,"  said  his 
father.  "  To  think  that  son  of  mine  should  turn  against 
his  own  country  !  "  he  added,  with  a  groan. 

"No,  father,  I  could  never  do  that,"  Walter  answered 
with  emotion. 

"It  looks  very  much  like  it — the  utter  indifference 
with  which  you  receive  this  glorious  news  !  "  cried  Mrs. 
Dinsmore  with  flashing  eyes.  "  I'm  positively  ashamed 
of  you." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  247 

"No,  mother,  not  with  indifference,  far  from  it;  for 
it  inaugurates  a  war  that  will  drench  the  land  with 
blood." 

"  Nonsense  !  the  North  will  never  fight.  A  race  of 
shop-keepers  fighting  for  a  sentiment,  poh  !  But  come 
to  breakfast,  there's  the  bell." 

^  " Better,"  says  Solomon,  "is  a  dinner  of  herbs  where 
love  is,  than  a  stalled  ox  and  hatred  therewith."  The 
luxurious  breakfast  at  Roselands  was  partaken  of  with 
very  little  enjoyment  that  morning ;  by  Walter  especially, 
who  had  to  bear  contempt  and  ridicule ;  threats  also :  he 
was  called  a  Yankee,  coward,  poltroon,  traitor;  and 
threatened  with  disinheritance  and  denouncement  unless 
he  would  declare  himself  for  the  Confederacy  and  enlist 
in  its  army. 

The  meal  was  but  half  over  when  he  rose  with  flashing 
eyes,  pale  face,  and  quivering  lips.  "  I  am  neither  a 
traitor  nor  a  coward,"  he  said  between  his  clenched 
teeth,  "  as  perhaps  time  may  prove  to  the  sorrow  of  a 
father  and  mother,  sister  and  brother,  who  can  so  use 
one  who  ill  deserves  such  treatment  at  their  hands." 
And  turning,  he  stalked  proudly  from  the  room. 

Enna  was  beginning  a  sneering  remark,  but  her  father 
stopped  her. 

"  Hush  !  we  have  been  too  hard  on  the  lad;  he  was 
always  slower  than  Art  about  making  up  his  mind,  and 
I've  no  doubt  will  turn  out  all  right  in  the  end." 

Soon  after  breakfast  the  father  and  mother  had  a  pri- 
vate talk  on  the  subject,  and  agreed  to  try  coaxing  and 
entreaties. 

"Wai  always  had  a  warm  heart,"  remarked  Mr.  Dins° 


248  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

more  finally,  "and  I  dare  say  can  be  reached  mote 
readily  through  that." 

"  Yes,  he  was  your  favorite  always,  while  you  have 
been  very  hard  upon  poor  Arthur's  youthful  follies ;  but 
you  see  now  which  is  the  more  worthy  of  the  two." 

Mr.  Dinsmore  shook  his  head.  "Not  yet,  wife; 
'tisn't  always  the  braggart  that  turns  out  bravest  in  time 
of  trial." 

"  Yes,  we  shall  see,"  she  answered,  with  a  slight  toss 
of  her  haughty  head.  "  I  trust  no  son  of  mine  will  prove 
iimself  so  cowardly  as  to  run  away  from  his  country  in 
her  time  of  need,  on  whatever  pretext." 

And  having  winged  this  shaft,  perceiving  with  pleasure 
that  her  husband  winced  slightly  under  it,  she  sailed 
from  the  room,  ascending  the  stairway,  and  presently 
paused  before  the  door  of  Walter's  dressing-room.  It 
was  slightly  ajar ;;  and  pushing  it  gently  open  she  en- 
tered without  knocking. 

He  stood  leaning  against  the  mantel,  his  tali  erect 
figure,  the  perfection  of  manly  grace,  his  eyes  fixed 
thoughtfully  upon  the  carpet,  and  his  fine,  open,  ex», 
pressive  countenance  full  of  a  noble  sadness. 

There  was  something  of  motherly  pride  in  the  glance 
that  met  his  as  he  looked  up  at  the  sound  of  Mrs.  Dins- 
more's  step.  Starting  forward,  he  gallantly  handed  her 
to  a  seat :  then  stood  respectfully  waiting  for  what  she 
had  to  say. 

"Walter,  my  dear  boy,"  she  began;  "your  father 
and  I  think  we  were  all  a  trifle  hard  on  you  this 
morning." 

He  colored  slightly  but  made  no  remark,  and  she  went 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  749 

on.  "  Of  course  we  can't  believe  it  possible  that  a  son 
of  ours  will  ever  show  himself  a  coward ;  but  it  is  very 
trying  to  us,  very  mortifying,  to  have  you  holding  back  in 
this  way  till  all  our  neighbors  and  friends  begin  to  hint 
that  you  are  disloyal  to  your  native  State,  and  look  scorn- 
ful and  contemptuous  at  the  very  mention  of  your  name." 

Walter  took  a  turn  or  two  across  the  room,  and  com- 
ing back  to  her  side,  " Mother,"  said  he,  "you  know  it 
is  my  nature  to  be  slow  in  deciding  any  matter  of  im- 
portance, and  this  is  the  weightiest  one  that  ever  I  had 
to  consider.  Men  much  older  and  wiser  than  I  are  find- 
ing it  a  knotty  question  to  which  their  loyalty  is  due, 
State  or  General  Government;  where  allegiance  to  the 
one  ends,  and  fealty  to  the  other  begins." 

"There  is  no  question  in  my  mind,"  she  interrupted, 
angrily.  "Of  course  your  allegiance  is  due  to  your 
State ;  so  don't  let  me  hear  any  more  about  that.  Your 
father  and  brother  never  hesitated  for  a  moment ;  and  it 
would  become  you  to  be  more  ready  to  be  guided  by 
them." 

"Mother,"  he  said,  with  a  pained  look,  "you  forget 
that  I  am  no  longer  a  boy ;  and  you  would  be  the  first 
to  despise  a  man  who  could  not  form  an  opinion  of  his 
own.  All  I  ask  is  time  to  decide  this  question  and — 
another." 

"  Pray  what  may  that  be?  whether  you  will  break  with 
Miss  Aller,  1  presume,"  she  retorted,  sneeringly. 

"No,  mother,"  he  answered  with  dignity;  "there  is 
no  question  in  my  mind  in  regard  to  that.  Mary  and  I 
are  pledged  to  each  other,  and  nothing  but  death  can 
part  us." 


259  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"And  "  (fiercely)  "  you  would  marry  her,  though  she 
is  ready  to  cheer  on  the  men  who  are  coming  to  invade 
our  homes  and  involve  us  in  the  horrors  of  a  servile  in. 
virrection !  " 

"I  think  it  is  hardly  an  hour  since  I  heard  you  say 
the  North  would  not  fight ;  and  since  we  have  shown  our 
determination  in  capturing  Sumter,  the  next  news  would 
be  that  we  were  to  be  allowed  to  go  in  peace.  You  may 
be  right ;  I  hope  you  are ;  but  the  fellows  I  know  in  the 
North  are  as  full  of  pluck  as  ourselves,  and  I  fear  there 
is  a  long,  fierce,  bloody  struggle  before  us."  He  stood 
before  her  with  folded  arms  and  grave,  earnest  face,  his 
eyes  meeting  hers  unflinchingly.  "  And  ere  I  rush  into 
it  I  want  to  know  that  I  am  ready  for  death  and  for 
judgment." 

"  No  need  to  hesitate  on  that  account,"  she  said,  with 
a  contemptuous  smile ;  "  you've  always  been  a  remark- 
ably upright  young  man,  and  I'm  sure  are  safe  enough. 
Besides,  I  haven't  a  doubt  that  those  who  die  in  defense 
of  their  country  go  straight  to  heaven." 

He  shook  his  head.  "  I  have  been  studying  the 
Bible  a  good  deal  of  late,  and  I  know  that  that  would 
never  save  my  soul." 

"This  is  some  of  Horace's  and  Elsie's  work;  I  wish 
they  would  attend  to  their  own  affairs  and  let  you  and 
others  alone."  And  she  rose  and  swept  angrily  from  the 
room. 

Walter  did  not  appear  at  dinner,  nor  was  he  seen 
again  for  several  days ;  but  as  such  absences  were  not 
infrequent — he  having  undertaken  a  sort  of  general  over- 
sight of  both  the  Oaks  and  Ion — this  excited  no  alarm. 


WOMANHOOD.  251 

The  first  day  in  fact  was  spent  at  Ion ;  the  next  he 
X>de  over  to  the  Oaks.  Mrs.  Murray  always  made  him 
rery  comfortable,  and  was  delighted  to  have  the  oppor- 
tunity ;  for  the  place  was  lonely  for  her  in  the  absence  of 
the  family.  She  was  on  the  veranda  as  he  rode  up  that 
tnorning  attended  by  his  servant. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Walter,"  she  cried,  "but  I'm  glad  to  see 
you  !  You're  a  sight  for  sair  een,  sir.  I  hope  ye've 
come  to  stay  a  bit." 

He  had  given  the  reins  to  his  servant  and  dismounted. 
"Yes,"  he  said,  shaking  hands  with  her,  "for  two  ot 
three  days,  Mrs.  Murray." 

"That's  gude  news,  sir.  Will  ye  come  in  and  take  a 
bite  or  sup  o'  something?  " 

"Thank  you,  not  no\v.  I'll  just  sit  here  for  a  mo- 
ment. The  air  is  delightful  this  morning." 

"So  it  is,  sir.  And  do  ye  bring  ony  news  frae  our 
friends  in  Naples?  " 

"No;  I  have  heard  nothing  since  I  saw  you  last." 

"  But  what's  this,  Mr.  Walter,  that  I  hear  the  servants 
laying  aboot  a  fight  wi'  the  United  States  troops  ?  " 

"Fort  Sumter  has  fallen,  Mrs.  Murray.  There's  an 
account  of  the  whole  affair,"  he  added,  taking  a  news- 
paper from  his  pocket  and  handing  it  to  her. 

She  received  it  eagerly,  and  with  a  hearty  thanks. 

"I  am  going  out  into  the  grounds,"  he  said,  and 
talked  away,  leaving  her  to  its  perusal. 

He  strolled  down  a  green  alley,  inspected  it,  the  lawns, 
he  avenue,  the  flower  and  vegetable  gardens,  to  see  that 
ill  were  in  order ;  held  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with 
he  head  gardener,  maki?ig  some  suggestions  and  bestow- 


252  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

ing  deserved  praise  of  his  faithful  performance  of  his 
duties ;  then  wandering  on,  at  length  seated  himself  in 
Elsie's  bower,  and  took  from  his  breast-pocket — where 
he  had  constantly  carried  it  of  late — a  small  morocco- 
bound,  gilt-edged  volume. 

He  sat  there  a  long  time,  reading  and  pondering  with 
grave,  anxious  face,  it  may  be  asking  for  heavenly  guid- 
ance too,  for  his  eyes  were  now  and  then  uplifted  and 
his  lips  moved. 

The  next  day  and  the  next  he  spent  at  the  Oaks,  pass- 
ing most  of  his  time  in  solitude,  either  in  the  least  fre- 
quented parts  of  the  grounds,  or  the  lonely  and  deserted 
rooms  of  the  mansion. 

Walter  had  always  been  a  favorite  with  Mrs.  Murray. 
She  had  a  sort  of  motherly  affection  for  him,  and  watch- 
ing him  furtively,  felt  sure  that  he  had  some  heavy  mental 
trouble.  She  waited  and  watched  silently,  hoping  that 
he  would  confide  in  her  and  let  her  sympathize,  if  she 
could  do  nothing  more. 

On  the  evening  of  the  third  day  he  came  in  from  the 
grounds  with  a  brightened  countenance,  his  little  book  in 
his  hand.  She  was  on  the  veranda  looking  out  for  him  to 
ask  if  he  was  ready  for  his  tea.  He  met  her  with  a  smile. 

"Is  it  gude  news,  Mr.  Walter?"  she  asked,  thinking 
of  the  distracted  state  of  the  country. 

"Yes,  Mrs.  Murray,  I  think  you  will  call  it  so. 
I  have  been  searching  here,"  and  he  held  up  the 
little  volume,  "  for  the  pearl  of  great  price  ;  and  I  have 
found  it." 

"  Dear  bairn,  I  thank  God  for  ye !  "  she  exclaimed 
vith  emotion.  "  It's  gude  news  indeed  !  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  *<2 

"I  cannot  think  how  I've  been  so  blind,"  he  went  off 
in  earnest  tones ;  "it  seems  now  so  simple  and  easy-^- 
just  to  believe  in  Jesus  Christ,  receive  His  offered  pardon, 
His  righteousness  put  upon  me,  the  cleansing  of  His  blood 
shed  for  the  remission  of  sins,  and  trust  my  all  to  Him 
for  time  and  eternity.  Now  I  am  ready  to  meet  death 
on  the  battle-field,  if  so  it  must  be." 

"  But,  O  Mr.  Walter,  I  hope  you'll  be  spared  that,  and 
live  to  be  a  good  soldier  of  Christ  these  many  years." 

They  were  startled  by  the  furious  galloping  of  a  horse 
coming  up  the  drive ;  and  the  next  moment  Arthur  drew 
rein  before  the  door. 

"  Walter;  so  you're  here,  as  I  thought !  I've  come  for 
you.  Lincoln  has  called  for  seventy-five  thousand  troops 
to  defend  the  capital ;  but  we  all  know  what  that  means 
— an  invasion  of  the  South.  The  North's  a  unit  now, 
and  so  is  the  South.  Davis  has  called  for  volunteers, 
and  the  war-cry  is  resounding  all  over  the  land.  We're 
raising  a  company :  I'm  appointed  captain,  and  you 
lieutenant.  Come;  if  you  hesitate  now — you'll  repent 
it:  father  says  he'll  disown  you  forever." 

Arthur's  utterance  was  fierce  and  rapid,  but  now  he 
was  compelled  to  pause  for  a  breath,  and  Walter  answered 
with  excitement  in  his  tones  also. 

"  Of  course  if  it  has  come  to  that,  I  will  not 
hesitate  to  defend  my  native  soil,  my  home,  my 
parents." 

"All  right ;  come  on  then ;  we  leave  to-night." 

Walter's  horse  was  ordered  at  once,  and  in  a  few 
moments  the  brothers  were  galloping  away  side  by 
side. 


254  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Mrs.  Murray  looked  after  them  with  a  sigh. 

"Ah  me!  the  poor  laddies!  will  they  die  on  the 
battle-field?  Ah,  wae's  me,  but  war's  an  awfu'  thing  !  " 

At  Roselands  all  was  bustle  and  excitement,  every 
one  eager,  as  it  seemed,  to  hasten  the  departure  of  the 
young  men. 

But  when  everything  was  ready  and  the  final  adieus 
must  be  spoken,  the  mother  embraced  them  with  tears 
and  sobs,  and  even  Enna's  voice  faltered  and  her  eyes 
grew  moist. 

Mounting,  they  rode  rapidly  down  the  avenue,  each 
followed  by  his  own  servant — and  out  at  the  great  gate. 
Walter  wheeled  his  horse.  "One  last  look  at  the  old 
home,  Art,"  he  said;  "we  may  never  see  it  again." 

"  Always  sentimental,  Wai,"  laughed  Arthur,  somewhat 
scornfully;  "but  have  your  way."  And  he,  too, 
wheeled  about  for  a  last  farewell  look. 

The  moon  had  just  risen,  and  by  her  silvery  light  the 
lordly  mansion — with  its  clustering  vines,  the  gardens, 
the  lawn,  the  shrubbery,  and  the  grand  old  trees — was 
distinctly  visible.  Never  had  the  place  looked  more 
lovely.  The  evening  breeze  brought  to  their  nostrils  the 
delicious  scent  of  roses  in  full  bloom,  and  a  nightingale 
poured  forth  a  song  of  ravishing  sweetness  from  a  thicket 
hard  by. 

;  Somehow  her  song  seemed  to  go  to  Walter's  very  heart 
,and  a  sad  foreboding  oppressed  him  as  they  gazed  and 
listened  for  several  moments,  then  turned  their  horses' 
heads  and  galloped  down  the  road. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOURTH. 

"  Is't  death  to  fall  for  Freedom's  right? 
He's  dead  alone  who  lacks  her  light." 

— CAMPBELL. 

WEE  ELSIE  was  convalescing  rapidly,  and  the  hearts 
<o  wrung  with  anguish  at  sight  of  her  sufferings  and  the 
fear  of  losing  her,  relieved  from  that,  were  again  filled 
with  the  intense  anxiety  for  their  country,  which  for  a 
short  space  had  been  half  forgotten  in  the  severity  of  the 
trial  apparently  so  close  at  hand. 

Mails  from  America  came  irregularly ;  now  and  then 
letters  and  papers  from  Philadelphia,  New  York,  and 
other  parts  of  the  North ;  very  seldom  anything  from  the 
South. 

What  was  going  on  in  their  homes  ?  what  were  dear 
relatives  and  friends  doing  and  enduring  ?  were  questions 
they  were  often  asking  of  themselves  or  each  other — 
questions  answered  by  a  sigh  only,  or  a  shake  of  the 
head.  The  suspense  was  hard  to  bear ;  but  who  of  all 
Americans,  at  home  or  abroad,  who  loved  their  native 
land,  were  not  suffering  at  this  time  from  anxiety  and 
suspense  ? 

"A  vessel  came  in  last  night,  which  I  hope  has  a 
mail  for  us,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore  as  they  sat  down 
to  the  breakfast  table  one  morning  early  in  November. 
"I  have  sent  Uncle  Joe  to  find  out;  and  bring  it,  if 
there." 

255 


256  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Ah,  if  it  should  bring  the  glorious  news  that  this 
dreadful  war  is  over,  and  all  our  dear  ones  safe  !  "  sighed 
Rose. 

"Ah,  no  hope  of  that,"  returned  her  husband.  "I 
think  all  are  well-nigh  convinced  now  that  it  will  last  for 
years :  the  enlistments  now,  you  remember,  are  for  three 
years  or  the  war." 

Uncle  Joe's  errand  was  not  done  very  speedily,  and 
on  his  return  he  found  the  family  collected  in  the  draw- 
ing-room. 

"  Good  luck  dis  time,  massa,"  he  said,  addressing  Mr. 
Dinsmore,  as  he  handed  him  the  mail  bag,  "lots  ob 
papahs  an'  lettahs." 

Eagerly  the  others  gathered  about  the  head  of  the 
household.  Rose  and  Elsie,  pale  and  trembling  with  ex- 
citement and  apprehension,  Mr.  Travilla,  grave  and 
quiet,  yet  inwardly  impatient  of  a  moment's  delay. 

It  was  just  the  same  with  Mr.  Dinsmore ;  in  a  trice  he 
had  unlocked  the  bag  and  emptied  its  contents — maga- 
zines, papers,  letters — upon  a  table. 

Rose's  eye  fell  upon  a  letter,  deeply  edged  with  black, 
which  bore  her  name  and  address  in  May's  handwriting. 
She  snatched  it  up  with  a  sharp  cry,  and  sank,  half- 
fainting,  into  a  chair. 

Her  husband  and  Elsie  were  instantly  at  her  side. 
"  Dear  wife,  my  love,  my  darling  !  this  is  terrible ;  but 
the  Lord  will  sustain  you." 

"Mamma,  dearest  mamma;  oh  that  I  could  comfort 
jtra  !  " 

Mr.  Travilla  brought  a  glass  of  water. 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  am  better  now  ;  I  can  bear  it,"  she 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  257 

murmured  faintly,  laying  her  head  on  her  husband's 
shoulder.  "  Open — read — tell  me." 

Elsie,  in  compliance  with  the  sign  from  her  father, 
opened  the  envelope  and  handed  him  the  letter. 

Glancing  over  it,  he  read  in  low,  moved  tones. 

"Rose,  Rose,  how  shall  I  tell  it?  Freddie  is  dead, 
and  Ritchie  sorely  wounded — both  in  that  dreadful, 
dreadful  battle  of  Ball's  Bluff;  both  shot  while  trying  to 
swim  the  river.  Freddie  killed  instantly  by  a  bullet  in 
his  brain,  but  Ritchie  swam  to  shore,  dragging  Fred's 
body  with  him;  then  fainted  from  fatigue,  pain,  and  loss 
of  blood. 

"  Mamma  is  heart-broken — indeed  we  all  are — and 
papa  seems  to  have  suddenly  grown  many  years  older. 
Oh,  we  don't  know  how  to  bear  it !  and  yet  we  are  proud 
of  our  brave  boys.  Edward  went  on  at  once,  when  the 
sad  news  reached  us  ;  brought  Ritchie  home  to  be  nursed, 
and — and  Freddie's  body  to  be  buried.  Oh !  what  a 
heart-breaking  scene  it  was  when  they  arrived  ! 

"  Harold,  poor  Harold,  couldn't  come  home ;  they 
wouldn't  give  him  a  furlough  even  for  a  day.  Edward 
went,  the  day  after  the  funeral,  and  enlisted,  and  Ritchie 
will  go  back  as  soon  as  his  wound  heals.  He  says  that 
while  our  men  stood  crowded  together  on  the  river-bank, 
below  the  bluff,  where  they  could  neither  fight  nor  re- 
treat, and  the  enemy  -.  ..re  pouring  their  shot  into  them 
from  the  heights,  Fred  came  to  him,  and  grasping  his 
hand  said,  '  Dear  Dick,  it's  not  likely  either  of  us  will 
come  out  of  this  alive ;  but  if  you  do  and  I  don't,  tell 
mother  and  the  rest  not  to  grieve ;  for  I  know  in  whom 


*58  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

I   have  believed.'     Remember,  dear  Rose,    this   sweet 
message  is  for  you  as  well  as  for  us. 

"  Your  loving  sister, 

"  MAY  ALLISON." 

Rose,  who  had  been  clinging  about  her  husband's  neck 
and  hiding  her  face  on  his  shoulder,  vainly  striving  to 
suppress  her  sobs  during  the  reading,  now  burst  into  a 
fit  of  hysterical  weeping. 

"Oh  Freddie,  Freddie,  my  little  brother  !  my  darling 
brother,  how  can  I  bear  to  think  I  shall  never,  never  see 
you  again  in  this  world  !  Oh  Horace,  he  was  always  so 
bright  and  sweet,  the  very  sunshine  of  the  house." 

"Yes,  dearest,  but  remember  his  dying  message; 
think  of  his  perfect  happiness  now.  He  is  free  from  all 
sin  and  sorrow,  done  with  the  weary  marchings  and  fight- 
ings, the  hunger  and  thirst,  cold  and  heat  and  fatigue  of 
war ;  no  longer  in  danger  from  shot  or  bursting  shell,  or 
of  lying  wounded  and  suffering  on  the  battle-field,  or 
languishing  in  hospital  or  prison." 

"  Yes,"  she  sighed,  "I  should  rather  mourn  for  poor 
wounded  Ritchie,  for  Harold  and  Edward,  still  exposed 
to  the  horrors  of  war.  Oh,  when  will  it  end  ? — this 
dreadful,  dreadful  war !  " 

All  were  weeping;  for  all  had  known  and  loved  the 
bright,  frank,  noble-hearted,  genial  young  man. 

But  Rose  presently  became  more  composed,  and  Mr. 
Travilla  proceeded  with  the  distribution  of  the  remaining 
letters. 

"  From  Adelaide,  doubtless,  and  I  presume  containing 
the  same  sad  news,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said,  breaking  the 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  259 

seal  of  another  black-edged  epistle,  directed  to  him. 
"  Yes,  and  more,"  he  added,  with  a  groan,  as  he  ran  his 
eye  down  the  page.  "  Dick  Percival  was  killed  in  a 
skirmish  last  May ;  and  Enna  is  a  widow.  Poor  fellow, 
I  fear  he  was  ill  prepared  to  go." 

Mr.  Tra villa  had  taken  up  a  newspaper.  "  Here  is  an 
account  of  that  Ball's  Bluff  affair,  which  seems  to  have 
been  very  badly  managed  on  the  part  of  the  Federals. 
Shall  I  read  it  aloud?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  yes,  if  you  please,"  sobbed  Rose ;  "  let  us 
know  all." 

"Badly  managed,  indeed,"  was  Mr.  Dinsmore's  com- 
ment at  the  conclusion,  "  it  looks  very  like  the  work  of 
treason." 

"  And  my  two  dear  brothers  were  part  of  the  dreadful 
sacrifice,"  moaned  Rose. 

"  But  oh  !  how  brave,  noble,  and  unselfish  they,  and 
many  others,  showed  themselves  in  that  awful  hour," 
said  Elsie  amid  her  sobs  and  tears.  "  Dear  mamma, 
doesn't  that  comfort  you  a  little?  " 

' '  Yes,  dear  child.  Freddie's  sweet  message  still  more. 
Oh,  I  need  not  mourn  for  him  1  " 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIFTH. 

•«  Liberty !     Freedom  !  tyranny  is  dead ! 
— Run  hence,  proclaim,  cry  it  about  the  streets." 

— SHAKESPEARE'S  JULIUS  CESAR. 

THE  winter  of  i86i-'62  wore  wearily  away,  the  Great 
Republic  still  convulsed  with  all  the  horrors  of  the  civil 
war ;  and  the  opening  spring  witnessed  no  abatement  of 
the  fearful  strife. 

During  all  these  months  nothing  unusual  had  occurred 
in  the  family  of  our  friends  at  Naples ;  but  one  lovely 
morning  in  April  a  sweet  floweret  blossomed  among 
them ;  bringing  joy  and  gladness  to  all  hearts. 

"  Our  little  violet,"  Elsie  said,  smiling  up  at  the  happy 
face  of  her  husband,  as  he  bent  over  her  and  the  babe. 
"  She  has  come  to  us  just  as  her  namesakes  in  America 
are  lifting  their  pretty  heads  among  the  grass." 

"  Thank  you,  darling,"  he  answered,  softly  touching 
his  lips  to  her  cheek;  "yes,  we  will  give  her  my 
mother's  name,  and  may  she  inherit  her  lovely  disposi- 
tion also." 

"I  should  be  so  glad,  dear  mother's  was  as  lovely  a 
character  as  I  ever  knew. ' ' 

"  Our  responsibilities  are  growing,  love  :  three  precious 
little  ones  now  to  train  up  for  usefulness  here  and  glory 
hereafter." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  with  grave  yet  happy  face;   "and 
who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ?  " 
260 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  261 

"  Our  sufficiency  is  of  God  !  " 

"And  He  has  promised  wisdom  to  those  who  ask  it. 
What  a  comfort.  I  should  like  to  show  this  pretty  one 
to  Walter.  Where  is  he  now,  I  wonder,  poor  fellow?  " 

Ah,  though  she  knew  it  not,  he  was  then  lying  cold  in 
death  upon  the  bloody  field  of  Shiloh. 

There  had  been  news  now  and  then  from  their  North- 
ern friends  and  relatives.  Richard  Allison  had  recovered 
from  his  wound,  and  was  again  in  the  field.  Edward 
was  with  the  army  also ;  Harold,  too,  and  Philip  Ross. 

Lucy  was,  like  many  others  who  had  strong  ties  in 
both  sections  and  their  armies,  well-nigh  distracted  with 
grief  and  fear. 

From  their  relatives  in  the  South  the  last  news  received 
had  been  that  of  the  death  of  Dick  Percival,  nor  did  any 
further  news  reach  there  until  the  next  November.  Then 
they  heard  that  Enna  had  been  married  again  to  another 
Confederate  officer,  about  a  year  after  her  first  husband's 
death ;  that  Walter  had  fallen  at  Shiloh,  that  Arthur  was 
killed  in  the  battle  of  luka,  and  that  his  mother,  hearing 
of  it  just  as  she  was  convalescing  from  an  attack  of 
fever,  had  a  relapse  and  died  a  few  days  after. 

Great  was  the  grief  of  all  for  Walter ;  Mr.  Dinsmore 
mourned  very  much  for  his  father  also,  left  thus  almost 
alone  in  his  declining  years.  No  particulars  were  given 
in  regard  to  the  deaths  of  the  two  young  men. 

"Oh,"  cried  Elsie,  as  she  wept  over  Walter's  loss, 
"  what  would  I  not  give  to  know  that  he  was  ready  for 
death  !  But  surely  we  may  rejoice  in  the  hope  that  he 
was ;  since  we  have  offered  so  much  united  prayer  for 
him." 


262  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Yes,"  returned  her  father,  "for 'If  two  of  you 
shall  agree  on  earth,  as  touehing  anything  that  they  shall 
ask,  it  shall  be  done  for  them  of  my  Father  which  is  in 
heaven  ' ;  and  God's  promises  are  all  '  yea  and  amen  in 
Christ  Jesus.' " 

"Papa,"  said  Horace,  "how  can  it  be  that  good 
Christian  men  are  fighting  and  killing  each  other  ?  " 

"It  is  a  very  strange  thing,  my  son ;  yet  undoubtedly 
true  that  there  are  many  true  Christians  on  both  sides. 
They  do  not  see  alike,  and  each  is  defending  what  he  be- 
lieves a  righteous  cause." 

"  Listen  all,"  said  Mrs.  Dinsmore,  who  was  reading  a 
letter  from  Daisy,  her  youngest  sister. 

"Richard  is  ill  in  the  hospital  at  Washington,  and 
May  has  gone  on  to  nurse  him.  Dr.  King,  of  Lansdale, 
Ohio,  is  there  acting  as  volunteer  surgeon,  and  has  Lottie 
with  him.  She  will  be  company  for  our  May.  Don't 
worry  about  Ritchie ;  May  writes  that  he  is  getting  bet- 
ter fast." 

Rose  smiled  as  she  read  the  last  sentence. 

"What  is  it,  mamma?"  asked  Elsie. 

"Nothing  much;  only  I  was  thinking  how  greatly 
Ritchie  seemed  to  admire  Miss  King  at  the  time  of  the 
wedding." 

"  Well,  if  he  loses  his  heart  I  hope  he  will  get  another 
in  exchange." 

"  Why,  Sister  Elsie,  how  could  Uncle  Ritchie  lose  his 
heart?  did  they  shoot  a  hole  so  it  might  dropout?" 
queried  Rosebud  in  wide-eyed  wonder.  "I  hope  the 
doctors  will  sew  up  the  place  quick  'fore  it  does  fall  out," 
she  added,  with  a  look  of  deep  concern.  "  Poor,  dear 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  263 

Uncle  Wai  is  killed,"  she  sobbed  j  "  and  Uncle  Art  too, 
and  I  don't  want  all  my  uncles  to  die  or  to  be  killed." 

"We  will  ask  God  to  take  care  of  them,  dear  daugh- 
ter," said  Rose,  caressing  the  little  weeper,  "and  we 
know  that  He  is  able  to  do  it." 

One  day  in  the  following  January — 1863 — the  gentle- 
men went  into  the  city  for  a  few  hours,  leaving  their 
wives  and  children  at  home.  They  returned  with  faces 
full  of  excitement. 

"  What  news  ?  "  queried  both  ladies  in  a  breath. 

"Lincoln  has  issued  an  Emancipation  Proclamation 
freeing  all  the  blacks." 

There  was  a  momentary  pause:  then  Rose  said,  "If 
it  puts  an  end  to  this  dreadful  war,  I  shall  not  be  sorry." 

"Nor  I,"  said  Elsie. 

"Perhaps  you  don't  reflect  that  it  takes  a  good  deal 
out  of  our  pockets,"  remarked  her  father.  "Several 
hundred  thousand  from  yours." 

"  Yes,  papa,  I  know ;  but  we  will  not  be  very  poor.  I 
alone  have  enough  left  to  keep  us  all  comfortably.  If  I 
were  only  sure  it  would  add  to  the  happiness  of  my  poor 
people,  I  should  rejoice  over  it.  But  I  am  sorely  troub- 
led to  know  what  has,  or  will  become  of  them.  It  is 
more  than  two  years  now,  since  we  have  heard  a  word 
from  Viamede." 

"It  is  very  likely  we  shall  find  nothing  but  ruins  on 
all  our  plantations — Viamede,  the  Oaks,  Ion,  and  Rose- 
lands,"  remarked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  pacing  to  and  fro  with 
an  anxious  and  disturbed  countenance. 

"Let  us  hope  for  the  best,"  Mr.  Travilla  responded 


264  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

cheerfully;  "the  land  will  still  be  there,  perhaps  the 
houses  too ;  the  negroes  will  work  for  wages,  and  grad- 
ually we  may  be  able  to  restore  our  homes  to  what  they 
were." 

"And  if  the  war  stops  now,  we  shall  probably  find 
them  still  in  pretty  good  condition,"  said  Elsie. 

"No,"  her  father  said,  "the  war  is  not  at  an  end,  or 
likely  to  be  for  a  long  time  to  come ;  but  we  will  wait  in 
patience  and  hope,  daughter,  and  not  grieve  over  losses 
that  perhaps  may  bring  great  happiness  to  others." 

"Are  we  poor  now,  papa?  "  asked  Horace  anxiously. 

"  No,  son ;  your  sister  is  still  very  wealthy,  and  we  all 
have  comfortable  incomes." 

"  It  did  me  good  to  see  Uncle  Joe's  delight  over  the 
news,"  Mr.  Tra villa  smilingly  remarked  to  his  wife. 

"Ah,  you  told  him  then  ?  "  she  returned,  with  a  keen 
interest  and  pleasure. 

"  Yes,  and  it  threw  him  into  a  transport  of  joy.  *  Ki ! 
massa,'  he  said,  '  neber  tink  to  heyah  sich  news  as  dat ! 
neber  spects  dis  chile  lib  to  see  freedom  come ; '  then 
sobering  down,  '  but,  massa,  we's  been  a  prayin"  for  it ; 
we's  been  crying  to  the  good  Lord  like  the  chillen  ob  Is- 
rael when  dey's  in  de  house  ob  bondage ;  tousands  an* 
tousands  ob  us  cry  day  an'  night,  an'  de  Lord  heyah,  an' 
now  de  answer  hab  come.  Bress  de  Lord  !  Bress  His 
holy  name  foreber  an'  eber.' 

"  '  And  what  will  you  do  with  your  liberty,  Uncle 
Joe  ? '  I  asked  ;  then  he  looked  half  frightened.  « Massa, 
you  ain't  gwine  to  send  us  off?  we  lub  you  an'  Miss 
Elsie  an'  de  chillen,  an'  we's  gettin'  mos'  too  ole  to  start 
put  new  for  ourselves.'  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  265 

"Well,  dear,  I  hope  you  assured  him  that  he  had 
nothing  to  fear  on  that  score." 

"  Certainly;  I  told  him  they  were  free  to  go  or  stay  as 
they  liked,  and  as  long  as  they  were  with,  or  near  us,  we 
would  see  that  they  were  made  comfortable.  Then  he 
repeated,  with  great  earnestness,  that  he  loved  us  all,  and 
could  never  forget  what  you  had  done  in  restoring  him 
to  his  wife,  and  making  them  both  so  comfortable  and 
happy." 

"  Yes,  I  think  they  have  been  happy  with  us ;  and 
probably  it  was  the  bitter  remembrance  of  the  sufferings 
of  his  earlier  life  that  made  freedom  seem  so  precious  a 
boon  to  him." 

Going  into  the  nursery  half  an  hour  later,  Elsie  was 
grieved  and  surprised  to  find  Chloe  sitting  by  the  crib 
of  the  sleeping  babe,  crying  and  sobbing  as  if  her  very 
heart  would  break,  her  head  bowed  upon  her  knees,  and 
the  sobs  half-smothered,  lest  they  should  disturb  the 
child. 

"  Why,  mammy  dear,  what  is  the  matter  ?  "  she  asked, 
going  to  her  and  laying  a  hand  tenderly  on  her  shoulder. 

Chloe  slid  to  her  knees,  and  taking  the  soft  white  hand 
in  both  of  hers,  covered  it  with  kisses  and  tears,  while 
her  whole  frame  shook  with  her  bitter  weeping. 

"  Mammy,  dear  mammy,  what  is  it?  "  Elsie  asked  in 
real  alarm,  quite  forgetting  for  the  moment  the  news  of 
the  morning,  which  indeed  she  could  never  have  ex- 
pected to  cause  such  distress. 

"Dis  chile  don't  want  no  freedom,"  sobbed  the  poor 
old  creature  at  length,  "  she  lubs  to  b'long  to  her  darlin' 
young  missis  :  Uncle  Joe  he  sing  an'  jump  an'  praise  de 


266  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Lord,  'cause  freedom  come,  but  your  ole  mammy  don't 
want  no  freedom ;  she  can't  go  for  to  leave  you,  Miss 
Elsie,  her  bressed  darlin'  chile  dat  she  been  done  take 
care  ob  ever  since  she  born. ' ' 

"Mammy  dear,  you  shall  never  leave  me  except  of 
your  own  free  will,"  Elsie  answered,  in  tender  soothing 
tones.  "  Come,  get  up,  and  don't  cry  any  more.  Why, 
it  would  come  as  near  breaking  my  heart  as  yours,  if  we 
had  to  part.  What  could  I  or  my  babies  ever  do  with- 
out our  old  mammy  to  look  after  our  comfort !  " 

"  Bress  your  heart,  honey,  you'se  allus  good  an'  kind 
to  your  ole  mammy,"  Chloe  said,  checking  her  sobs  and 
wiping  away  her  tears,  as  she  slowly  rose  to  her  feet ; 
"  de  Lord  bress  you  an'  keep  you.  Now  let  your  mammy 
gib  you  one  good  hug,  like  when  you  little  chile." 

"And  many  times  since,"  said  Elsie,  smiling  sweetly 
into  the  tear-swollen  eyes  of  her  faithful  old  nurse,  and 
not  only  submitting  to,  but  returning  the  embrace. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIXTH. 

•*  And  faint  not,  heart  of  man !  though  years  wane  slovr ! 
There  have  been  those  that  from  the  deepest  caves, 
And  cells  of  night  and  fastnesses  below 
The  stormy  dashing  of  the  ocean  waves, 
Down,  farther  down  than  gold  lies  hid,  have  nurs'd 
A  quenchless  hope,  and  watch'd  their  time  and  burst 
On  the  bright  day  like  wakeners  from  the  grave." 

—MRS.  HEMANS 

NOON  of  a  sultry  July  day,  1864 ;  the  scorching  sun 
looks  down  upon  a  pine  forest ;  in  its  midst  a  cleared 
space  some  thirty  acres  in  extent,  surrounded  by  a  log 
stockade  ten  feet  high,  the  timbers  set  three  feet  deep 
into  the  ground ;  a  star  fort,  with  one  gun  at  each  cor- 
ner of  the  square  enclosure ;  on  top  of  the  stockade  sen- 
tinel boxes  placed  twenty  feet  apart,  reached  by  steps 
from  the  outside ;  in  each  of  these  a  vigilant  guard  with 
loaded  musket,  constantly  on  the  watch  for  the  slightest 
pretext  for  shooting  down  some  one  or  more  of  the  pris- 
oners, of  whom  there  are  from  twenty-five  thousand  to 
thirty  thousand. 

All  along  the  inner  side  of  the  wall,  six  feet  from  it, 
stretches  a  dead  line  ;  and  any  poor  fellow  thoughtlessly 
or  accidentally  laying  a  hand  upon  it,  or  allowing  any 
part  of  his  body  to  reach  under  or  over  it,  will  be  in- 
stantly shot. 

267 


268  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

( 

A  green,  slimy,  sluggish  stream,  bringing  with  it  all  the 
filth  of  the  sewers  of  Andersonville,  a  village  three  miles 
distant,  flows  directly  across  the  enclosure  from  east  to 
west.  Formerly,  the  only  water  fit  to  drink  came  from  a 
spring  beyond  the  eastern  wall,  which  flowing  under  it, 
into  the  enclosure,  emptied  itself  into  the  other  stream,  a 
few  feet  within  the  dead  line. 

It  did  not  suffice  to  satisfy  the  thirst  of  the  thousands 
who  must  drink  or  die,  and  the  little  corner  where  its 
waters  could  be  reached  was  always  crowded,  men  press- 
ing upon  each  other  till  often  one  or  another  would  be 
pushed  against  the  dead  line,  shot  by  the  guard,  and  the 
body  left  lying  till  the  next  morning  ;  even  if  it  had  fal- 
len into  the  water  beyond  the  line,  polluting  the  scant 
supply  left  for  the  living.  But  the  cry  of  these  perishing 
ones  had  gone  up  into  the  ears  of  the  merciful  Father  of 
us  all,  and  of  late  a  spring  of  clear  water  bubbles  up  in 
their  midst. 

But  powder  and  shot,  famine,  exposure  (for  the  pris- 
oners have  no  shelter,  except  as  they  burrow  in  the  earth), 
and  malaria  from  that  sluggish,  filthy  stream,  and  the 
marshy  ground  on  either  side  of  it,  are  doing  a  fearful 
work :  every  morning  a  wagon  drawn  by  four  mules  is 
driven  in,  and  the  corpses — scattered  here  and  there  to 
the  number  of  from  eighty-five  to  a  hundred — gathered 
up,  tossed  into  it  like  sticks  of  wood,  taken  away  and 
thrown  promiscuously  into  a  hole  dug  for  the  purpose, 
and  earth  shoveled  over  them. 

There  are  corpses  lying  about  now ;  there  are  men, 
slowly  breathing  out  their  last  of  life,  with  no  dying  bed, 
no  pillow  save  the  hard  ground,  no  mother,  wife,  sister, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  269 

daughter  near,  to  weep  over,  or  to  comfort  them  as  they 
enter  the  dark  valley. 

Others  there  are,  wasted  and  worn  till  scarce  more  than 
living  skeletons,  creeping  about  on  hands  and  feet,  lying 
or  sitting  in  every  attitude  of  despair  and  suffering ;  a 
dull,  hopeless  misery  in  their  sunken  eyes,  a  pathetic 
patience  fit  to  touch  a  heart  of  stone  ;  while  others  still 
have  grown  frantic  with  that  terrible  pain,  the  hunger 
gnawing  at  their  very  vitals,  and  go  staggering  about, 
wildly  raving  in  their  helpless  agony. 

And  on  them  all  the  scorching  sun  beats  pitilessly 
down.  Hard,  cruel  fate  !  scorched  with  heat,  with  the 
cool  shelter  of  the  pine  forests  on  every  side;  perish- 
ing with  hunger  in  a  land  of  plenty. 

In  one  corner,  but  a  yard  or  so  within  the  dead  line,  a 
group  of  officers  in  the  Federal  uniform — evidently  men 
of  culture  and  refinement,  spite  of  their  hatless  and  shoe- 
less condition,  ragged,  soiled  raiment,  unkempt  hair,  and 
unshaven  faces — sit  on  the  ground,  like  their  comrades 
in  misfortune,  sweltering  in  the  sun. 

"  When  will  this  end?  "  sighs  one.  "  I'd  sooner  die 
a  hundred  deaths  on  the  battle-field." 

"  Ah,  who  wouldn't  ?  "  exclaims  another  ;  "  to  starve, 
roast,  and  freeze  by  turns  for  one's  country,  requires 
more  patriotism  by  far  than  to  march  up  to  the  can- 
non's mouth,  or  charge  up  hill  under  a  galling  fire  of 
musketry." 

"True  indeed,  Jones,"  returns  a  fair -haired,  blue-eyed 
young  man,  with  face  so  gaunt  and  haggard  with  famine 
that  his  own  mother  would  scarcely  have  recognized  him, 
and  distinguished  from  the  rest  by  a  ball  and  chain  at' 


270  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

tached  to  wrist  and  ankle ;  "  and  yet  we  bear  it  for  her 
sake  and  for  Freedom's.  Who  of  us  regrets  that  we  did 
not  stay  at  home  in  inglorious  ease,  and  leave  our  grand 
old  ship  of  state  to  founder  and  go  to  pieces  amid  the 
rocks  of  secession  ?  " 

"  None  of  us,  Allison  1  No,  no  !  the  Union  forever  !  " 
returned  several  voices  in  chorus. 

"  Hark  !  " — as  the  sharp  crack  of  a  rifle  was  heard, 
and  a  prisoner  who,  half  crazed  with  suffering,  had,  in 
staggering  about,  approached  too  near  the  fatal  line  and 
laid  a  hand  upon  it,  fell  dead — "  another  patriot  soul  has 
gone  to  its  account,  and  another  rebel  earned  a  thirty 
days'  furlough." 

The  dark  eyes  of  the  speaker  flashed  with  indignation. 

"  Poor  fellows,  they  don't  know  that  it  is  to  preserve 
their  liberties  we  fight,  starve,  and  die;  to  save  them 
from  the  despotism  their  ambitious  and  unscrupulous 
leaders  desire  to  establish  over  them,"  remarked  Harold 
Allison ;  "  how  grossly  the  masses  of  the  Southern  people 
have  been  deceived  by  a  few  hot-headed  politicians,  bent 
upon  obtaining  power  for  themselves  at  whatever  cost." 

"True,"  returned  the  other,  drily;  "but  it's  just  a 
little  difficult  to  keep  these  things  in  mind  under  present 
circumstances.  By  the  way,  Allison,  have  you  a  sister 
who  married  a  Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore?" 

"Yes,  do  you  know  Rose?  "  asked  Harold,  in  some 
surprise. 

"I  was  once  a  guest  at  the  Oaks  for  a  fortnight  or  so, 
at  the  time  of  the  marriage  of  Miss  Elsie,  Mr.  Dins- 
more's  daughter,  to  a  Mr.  Travilla." 

Harold's    face   grew   a    shade    paler,    but    his    tones 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  271 

were  calm  and  quiet.  "  Indeed  !  and  may  I  ask  your 
name?" 

"  Harry  Duncan,  at  your  service,"  returned  the  other, 
with  a  bow  and  smile.  "I  met  your  three  brothers 
there,  also  your  sisters,  Mrs.  Carrington  and  Miss  May 
Allison." 

The  color  deepened  slightly  on  Harry's  cheek  as  he 
pronounced  the  last  name.  The  pretty  face,  graceful 
form,  charming  manners,  and  sprightly  conversation  of 
the  young  lady  were  still  fresh  in  his  memory.  Having 
enjoyed  the  hospitalities  of  Andersonville  for  but  a  few 
days,  he  was  in  better  condition,  as  to  health  and  cloth- 
ing, than  the  rest  of  the  group,  who  had  been  there  foi 
months. 

"  Harry  Duncan  !  "  exclaimed  Harold,  offering  his 
hand,  which  the  other  took  in  a  cordial  grasp  and  shook 
heartily,  "yes,  I  know;  I  have  heard  of  you  and  your 
aunt,  Miss  Stanhope.  I  feel  as  if  I'd  found  a  brother." 

"Thank  you;  suppose  we  consider  ourselves  such ;  a 
brother  is  what  I've  been  hankering  after  ever  since  I  can 
remember." 

"Agreed,"  said  Harold.  "Perhaps,"  he  added,  with 
a  melancholy  smile,  "  we  may  find  the  fiction  turned  to 
fact  some  day,  if  you  and  one  of  my  single  sisters  should 
happen  to  take  a  fancy  to  each  other ;  that  is,  if  we  live 
to  get  out  of  this  and  to  see  home  again."  His  tone  at 
the  last  was  very  desponding. 

"  Cheer  up,"  said  Duncan,  in  a  low,  sympathizing  tone, 
"I  think  we  can  find  a  way  to  escape;  men  have  done 
so  even  from  the  Bastile — a  far  more  difficult  task,  I 
should  say." 


372  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"What's  your  idea?  " 

"  To  dig  our  way  out,  working  at  night,  and  covering 
up  the  traces  of  our  work  by  day." 

"  Yes,  it's  the  only  way  possible,  so  far  as  I  can  see," 
said  Harold.  "I  have  already  escaped  twice  in  that 
way,  but  only  to  be  retaken,  and  this  is  what  I  gained," 
shaking  his  chain,  and  pointing  to  the  heavy  ball  at- 
tached. "  Yet,  if  I  were  rid  of  this,  and  possessed  of  a 
little  more  strength,  I'd  make  a  third  attempt." 

"I  think  I  could  rid  you  of  that  little  attachment," 
returned  Duncan;  "and  the  tunnel  once  ready,  help 
you  in  the  race  for  liberty." 

The  others  of  the  group  were  exchanging  significant 
nods  and  glances. 

"  I  think  we  may  let  Duncan  into  our  secret,"  said 
Jones.  "We're  digging  a  well;  have  gone  down  six 
feet;  three  feet  below  the  surface  is  soapstone,  so  soft  we 
can  cut  it  with  our  jack-knives.  We  mean  to  work  our 
way  out  to-night.  Will  you  join  us  ?  " 

"With  all  my  heart." 

"  Suppose  we  are  caught  in  the  attempt,"  said  one. 

"We  can't  be  in  much  worse  condition  than  now," 
observed  another;  "starving  in  this  pestiferous  atmos- 
.phere  rilled  with  the  malaria  from  that  swamp,  and  the 
: effluvia  from  half-decayed  corpses ;  men  dying  every 
day,  almost  every  hour,  from  famine,  disease,  or  vio- 
lence." 

"No,"  said  Harry,  "we  may  bring  upon  ourselves 
what  Allison  is  enduring,  or  instant  death ;  but  I  for  one 
would  prefer  the  latter  to  the  slow  torture  of  starvation." 

"If  we   are   ready,"   said    Harold,    in   low,    solemn 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  273 

tones.  "  It  is  appointed  to  men  once  to  die,  and  after 
that  the  judgment." 

"  And  what  should  you  say  was  the  needful  prepara- 
tion?" queried  another,  half-mockingly.  "  'Repent  ye 
and  believe  the  gospel.'  'Let  the  wicked  forsake  his 
way  and  the  unrighteous  man  his  thoughts,  and  let  him 
return  unto  the  Lord  and  He  will  have  mercy  upon  him ; 
and  to  our  God,  for  He  will  abundantly  pardon.'  'Be- 
lieve on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  and  thou  shalt  be  saved.' " 

Silence  fell  on  the  little  group.  Duncan's  eyes  wan- 
dered over  the  field,  over  the  thousands  of  brave  men 
herded  together  there  like  cattle,  with  none  of  the  com- 
forts, few  of  the  necessaries  of  life — over  the  living,  the 
dying,  the  dead  j  taking  in  the  whole  aggregate  of  suf- 
fering with  one  sweeping  glance.  His  eyes  filled ;  his 
whole  soul  was  moved  with  compassion,  while  he  half 
forgot  that  he  himself  was  one  of  them. 

How  much  were  the  consolations  of  God  needed  here ! 
how  few,  comparatively,  possessed  them.  But  some 
there  were  who  did,  and  were  trying  to  impart  them  to 
others.  Should  he  stay  and  share  in  this  good  work  ? 
Perhaps  he  ought ;  he  almost  thought  so  for  a  moment ; 
but  he  remembered  his  country's  need  ; '  he  had  enlisted 
for  the  war ;  he  must  return  to  active  service,  if  he  could. 

Then  his  eye  fell  upon  Harold.  Here  was  a  noble  life 
to  be  saved ;  a  life  that  would  inevitably  be  lost  to 
friends,  relatives,  country,  by  but  a  few  weeks'  longer 
sojourn  in  this  horrible  place.  Duncan's  determination 
was  taken :  with  the  help  of  God  the  morning  light 
should  find  them  both  free  and  far  on  their  way  towards 
the  Union  lines. 


274  ELSIES  WOMANHOOD. 

"We'll  try  it,  comrades,  to-night,"  he  said  aloud. 

"So  we  will,"  they  answered  with  determination. 

A  man  came  staggering  towards  them,  gesticulating 
wildly  and  swearing  horrible  oaths. 

"He  is  crazed  with  hunger,  poor  fellow,"  remarked 
Harold. 

Duncan  was  gazing  steadily  at  the  man  who  had  now  sunk 
panting  upon  the  ground,  exhausted  by  his  own  violence. 
Evidently  he  had  once  possessed  more  than  an  ordinary 
share  of  physical  beauty,  but  vice  and  evil  passions  had 
set  their  stamp  upon  his  features,  and  famine  had  done 
its  ghastly  work.^  he  was  but  a  wreck  of  his  former  self. 

"  Where  have  I  seen  that  face  ?  "  murmured  Harry, 
unconsciously  thinking  aloud. 

"In  the  rogues'  gallery,  perhaps.  Tom  Jackson  is 
his  name,  or  one  of  his  names  ;  for  he  has  several  aliases, 
I'm  told,"  remarked  some  one  standing  near. 

"Yes,  he's  the  very  man!"  exclaimed  Harry.  "I 
have  studied  his  photograph  and  recognize  him  fully,  in 
spite  of  famine's  ravages.  The  wretch  !  he  deserves  all 
he  suffers  :  and  yet  I  pity  him." 

"What!  the  would-be  assassin  of  Viamede?"  and 
Harold  started  to  his  feet,  the  hot  blood  dyeing  his  thin 
cheeks. 

"  The  same.  You  feel  like  lynching  him  on  the  spot  j 
and  no  wonder.  But  refrain  ;  they  would  bid  you,  and 
he  is  already  suffering  a  worse  fate  than  any  you  could 
mete  out  to  him." 

"  God  forgive  me  !  "  groaned  Harold,  dropping  down 
again  and  hiding  his  face  in  his  hands,  "  I  believe  there 
was  murder  in  my  heart." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  275 

"The  story?  what  was  it?"  asked  Jones.  "Tell 
it,  Duncan  ;  anything  to  help  us  to  a  moment's  forgetful- 
ness." 

The  others  joined  in  the  request,  and  Duncan  gave  the 
full  particulars  of  the  several  attempts  Jackson  had  made 
upon  the  lives  of  Mr.  Travilla  and  Elsie. 

Allison  never  once  lifted  his  face  during  the  recital, 
but  the  rest  listened  with  keen  interest. 

"The  fellow  richly  deserves  lynching,"  was  the  unan- 
imous verdict,  "but,  as  you  say,  is  already  suffering 
a  far  worse  fate." 

"And  yet  no  worse  than  that  of  thousands  of  inno- 
cent men,"  remarked  Jones  bitterly.  "Where's  the 
justice  of  it?" 

"  Do  you  expect  even-handed  justice  here?  "  inquired 
another. 

"Perhaps  he  may  be  no  worse  in  the  sight  of  God, 
than  some  of  the  rest  of  us,"  said  Harold,  in  low,  grave 
tones ;  "  we  do  not  know  what  evil  influences  may  have 
surrounded  him  from  his  very  birth,  or  whether,  exposed 
to  the  same,  we  would  have  turned  out  any  better. ' ' 

"I'm  perishing  with  thirst,"  said  Jones,  "and  must 
try  pushing  through  that  crowd  about  the  spring." 

He  wandered  off  and  the  group  scattered,  leaving 
Harold  and  Duncan  alone  together. 

The  two  had  a  long  talk :  of  home,  common  friends 
and  acquaintance  ;  of  the  war,  what  this  or  that  Federal 
force  was  probably  now  attempting ;  what  future  move- 
ments were  likely  to  be  made,  and  how  the  contest  would 
end  ;  neither  doubting  the  final  triumph  of  the  govern- 
ment. 


276  £LSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"And  that  triumph  can't  be  very  far  off  either,"  con- 
cluded Harry.  "  I  think  the  struggle  will  be  over  before 
this  time  next  year,  and  I  hope  you  and  I  may  have  a 
hand  in  the  winding  up." 

"Perhaps  you  may,"  Allison  rejoined  a  little  sadly; 
"  but  I,  I  fear,  have  struck  my  last  blow  for  my  native 
land." 

"  You  are  not  strong  now,  but  good  nursing  may  do 
wonders  for  you, ' '  answered  Harry  cheerily.  ' '  Once 
within  the  Union  lines,  and  you  will  feel  like  another 
man." 

"  Ah,  but  how  to  get  me  there  ?  that's  the  tug  of  war," 
said  Harold,  but  with  a  smile  and  in  tones  more  hopeful 
than  his  words.  "  Duncan,  you  are  a  Christian  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Allison;  Jesus  Christ  is  the  Captain  of  my 
salvation ;  in  whom  I  trust,  and  in  whose  service  I  desire 
to  live  and  die." 

"  Then  are  we  brothers  indeed  !  "  and  with  the  words 
their  right  hands  joined  in  a  more  cordial  grasp  than 
before. 

The  sun  was  nearing  the  western  horizon  when  at 
length  Harold  was  left  alone.  He  bowed  his  head 
upon  his  knees  in  thought  and  prayer,  remaining  thus  for 
many  minutes,  striving  for  a  spirit  of  forgiveness  and 
compassion  towards  the  coward  wretch  who  would  have 
slain  one  dearer  to  him  than  life. 

At  last,  as  the  shadows  of  evening  were  gathering  over 
the  place,  he  lifted  a  pale,  patient  face ;  and  rising,  made 
his  way  slowly  and  with  difficulty  towards  the  spot  where 
Jackson  lay  prostrate  on  the  ground,  groaning  and  crying 
like  a  child. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  277 

Sitting  down  beside  the  miserable  creature,  he  spoke 
to  him  in  gentle,  soothing  tones.  "  You  have  been  here 
a  long  time?" 

"  The  longest  year  that  ever  I  lived  !  but  it  won't  last 
much  longer  ;  "  and  he  uttered  a  fearful  oath.  • 

"  Are  you  expecting  to  be  exchanged  ?  " 

"Exchanged!  no.  What  do  those  fellows  at  Wash- 
ington care  about  our  lives?  They'll  delay  and  delay 
till  we're  all  starved  to  death,  like  hundreds  and  thou- 
sands before  us;  "  and  again  he  concluded  with  a  volley 
of  oaths  and  curses,  bestowed  indiscriminately  upon  the 
President  and  Congress,  Jeff  Davis,  Wirtz,  and  the  guard. 

Harold  was  shocked  at  his  profanity.  "Man,"  said 
he  solemnly,  "  do  you  know  that  you  are  on  the  brink 
of  the  grave  ?  and  must  soon  appear  at  the  bar  of  Him 
whose  holy  name  you  are  taking  in  vain  ?  " 

"  Curse  you  !  "  he  cried,  lifting  his  head  for  a  moment, 
then  dropping  it  again  on  the  ground ;  "  take  your  cant 
to  some  other  market,  I  don't  believe  in  a  God,  or  heaven 
or  hell :  and  the  sooner  I  die  the  better  ;  for  I'll  be  out 
of  my  misery." 

"  No ;  that  is  a  fatal  delusion,  and  unless  you  turn  and 
repent,  and  believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  death  can 
-only  plunge  you  into  deeper  misery.  You  have  only  a 
little  while !  Oh,  I  beseech  you,  don't  cast  away  your 
last  chance  to  secure  pardon,  peace  and  eternal  life  !  " 

"You're  'casting  your  pearls  before  swine,'"  re- 
turned the  man,  sneeringly.  "  Not  to  say  that  I'm  a  hog 
exactly,  but  I've  not  a  bit  more  of  a  soul  than  if  I  was. 
Your  name's  Allison,  isn't  it?" 

"  It  is." 


278  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"D'ye  know  anybody  named  Dinsmore ?  or  Tra- 
villa?" 

"  Yes;  and  I  know  who  you  are,  Jackson,  and  of  your 
crimes  against  them.  In  the  sight  of  God  you  are  a 
murderer." 

"You  tell  me  to  repent.  I've  repented  many  a  time 
that  I  didn't  take  better  aim  and  blow  his  brains  out ; 
yes,  and  hers  too.  I  hoped  I  had,  till  I  saw  the  account 
in  the  papers." 

Harold's  teeth  and  hands  were  tightly  clenched,  in  an 
almost  superhuman  effort  to  keep  himself  quiet ;  and  the 
man  went  on  without  interruption. 

"  He'd  nearly  made  a  finish  of  me,  but  I  was  smart 
enough  to  escape  them,  bloodhounds  and  all.  I  got  over 
the  border  into  Texas ;  had  a  pretty  good  time  there  for 
awhile — after  I  recovered  from  that  awful  blood-letting; 
but  when  secession  began,  I  slipped  off  and  came  North. 
You  think  I'm  all  bad  ;  but  I  had  a  kind  of  love  for  the 
old  flag,  and  went  right  into  the  army.  Besides,  I 
thought  it  might  give  me  a  chance  to  put  a  bullet  through 
some  o'  those  that  had  thwarted  my  plans,  and  would 
have  had  me  lynched,  if  they  could." 

Harold  rose  and  went  away,  thinking  that  verily  he 
had  been  casting  his  pearls  before  swine. 

Jackson  had,  indeed,  thrown  away  his  last  chance ; 
rejected  the  last  offer  of  salvation  ;  for,  ere  morning,  life 
had  fled.  Starved  to  death  and  gone  into  eternity  with- 
out God  and  without  hope !  his  bitterest  foe  could  not 
have  desired  for  him  a  more  terrible  fate. 

There  was  no  moon  that  night,  and  the  evening  was 
cloudy,  making  a  favorable  condition  of  affairs  for  the 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  279 

prisoners  contemplating  an  escape.  As  soon  as  the  dark- 
ness was  dense  enough  to  conceal  their  movements  from 
the  guard,  the  work  of  tunneling  began. 

It  was  a  tedious  business,  as  they  had  none  of  the 
proper  tools,  and  only  one  or  two  could  work  at  a  time 
at  the  digging  and  cutting  away  of  the  stone ;  but  they 
relieved  each  other  frequently  at  that,  while  those  on  the 
outside  carried  away  in  their  coats  or  whatever  came  to 
hand,  the  earth  and  fragments  of  stone  dislodged,  and 
spread  them  over  the  marshy  ground  near  the  creek. 

Duncan,  returning  from  one  of  these  trips,  spoke  in  an 
undertone  to  Harold  Allison,  who  with  a  rude  file  made 
of  a  broken  knife-blade,  was  patiently  endeavoring  to  free 
himself  from  his  shackles. 

"Jackson  is  dead.  I  half  stumbled  over  a  corpse  in 
the  dark,  when  a  man  close  by  (the  same  one  that  told 
us  this  afternoon  who  the  fellow  was — I  recognized  the 
voice)  said,  '  He's  just  breathed  his  last,  poor  wretch ! 
died  with  a  curse  on  his  lips.'  '  Who  is  he  ?  '  I  asked ; 
and  he  answered,  '  Tom  Jackson  was  one  of  his  names.'  " 

"Gone  !  "  said  Harold,  "and  with  all  his  sins  upon 
his  head." 

"  Yes ;  it's  awful !  Here,  let  me  work  that  for  awhile. 
You're  very  tired." 

The  proffered  assistance  was  thankfully  accepted,  and 
another  half-hour  of  vigorous  effort  set  Harold's  limbs 
free.  He  stretched  them  out,  with  a  low  exclamation  of 
gratitude  and  relief. 

At  the  same  instant  a  whisper  came  to  their  ears. 
"  The  work's  done  at  last.  Jones  is  out.  Parsons  close 
at  h»i  heels.  Cox  behind  him.  Will  you  go  next  ?  " 


28o  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Thanks,  no ;  I  will  be  the  last,"  said  Duncan  ;  "  and 
take  charge  of  Allison  here,  who  is  too  weak  to  travel  far 
alone." 

"Then  I'm  off,"  returned  the  voice.  "Don't  lose  a 
minute  in  following  me." 

"Now,  Allison,"  whispered  Harry,  "summon  all  your 
strength  and  courage,  old  fellow." 

'*  Duncan,  you  are  a  true  and  noble  friend  !  God  re- 
ward you.  Let  me  be  last." 

"No,  in  with  you,  man!  not  an  instant  to  spare;" 
and  with  kindly  force  he  half  lifted  his  friend  into  the 
well,  and  guided  him  to  the  mouth  of  the  tunnel. 

Allison  crept  through  it  as  fast  as  his  feeble  strength 
would  permit,  Duncan  close  behind  him. 

They  emerged  in  safety,  as  the  others  had  done  before 
them ;  at  once  scattering  in  different  directions. 

These  two  moved  on  together,  for  several  minutes, 
plunging  deeper  and  deeper  into  the  woods,  but  presently 
paused  to  take  breath  and  consider  their  bearings. 

"Oh,  the  air  of  liberty  is  sweet !  "  exclaimed  Duncan, 
in  low,  exultant  tones;  "but  we  mustn't  delay  here." 

"No;  we  are  far  from  safe  yet,"  panted  Allison, 
"  but — '  prayer  and  provender  hinder  no  man's  journey ' ; 
Duncan,  let  us  spend  one  moment  in  silent  prayer  for 
success  in  reaching  the  Union  lines." 

They  did  so,  kneeling  on  the  ground  ;  then  rose  and 
pressed  forward  with  confidence.  God,  whose  servants 
they  were  and  whose  help  they  had  asked,  would  guide 
them  in  the  right  direction. 

"What  a  providence  !  "  exclaimed  Duncan,  grasping 
Harold's  arm,  as  they  came  out  upon  an  opening  in  the 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  281 

wood.  "See!"  and  he  pointed  upward,  "the  clouds 
have  broken  away  a  little,  and  there  shines  the  North 
Star :  we  can  steer  by  that." 

"Thank  God  !  and,  so  far,  we  have  been  traveling  in 
the  right  direction." 

"  Amen  !  and  we  must  press  on  with  all  speed ;  for 
daylight  will  soon  be  upon  us,  and  with  it,  in  all  prob- 
ability, our  escape  will  be  discovered  and  pursuit  begun." 

No  more  breath  could  be  spared  for  talk,  and  they 
pushed  on  in  silence,  now  scrambling  through  a  thicket 
of  underbrush,  tearing  their  clothes  and  not  seldom 
lacerating  their  flesh  also ;  now  leaping  over  a  fallen  tree, 
anon  climbing  a  hill,  and  again  fording  or  swimming  a 
stream. 

At  length  Harold,  sinking  down  upon  a  log,  said,  "  I 
am  utterly  exhausted  !  Can  go  no  farther.  Go  on,  and 
leave  me  to  follow  as  I  can  after  a  little  rest." 

"  Not  a  step  without  you,  Allison,"  returned  Duncan, 
determinedly.  "Rest  a  bit,  and  then  try  it  again  with 
the  help  of  my  arm.  Courage,  old  fellow,  we  must  have 
put  at  least  six  or  eight  miles  between  us  and  our  late 
quarters.  Ah,  ha!  yonder  are  some  blackberry  bushes, 
well  laden  with  ripe  fruit.  Sit  or  lie  still  while  I  gather 
our  breakfast." 

Hastily  snatching  a  handful  of  oak  leaves,  and  forming 
a  rude  basket  by  pinning  them  together  with  thorns,  he 
quickly  made  his  way  to  the  bushes,  a  few  yards  distant, 
while  Harold  stretched  himself  upon  the  log  and  closed 
his  weary  eyes. 

He  thought  he  had  hardly  done  so  when  Duncan 
touched  his  arm. 


282  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Sorry  to  wake  you,  Allison,  but  time  is  precious; 
and,  like  the  beggars,  we  must  eat  and  run." 

The  basket  was  heaped  high  with  large,  delicious 
berries,  which  greatly  refreshed  our  travelers. 

"  Now,  then,  are  you  equal  to  another  effort  ?  "  asked 
Duncan,  as  the  last  one  disappeared,  and  he  thrust  the 
leaves  into  his  pocket,  adding,  "We  mustn't  leave  these 
to  tell  tales  to  our  pursuers." 

"Yes,  I  dare  not  linger  here,"  returned  Allison,  rising 
but  totter ingly. 

Duncan  threw  an  arm  about  him,  and  again  they 
pressed  forward,  toiling  on  for  another  half-hour ;  when 
Allison  again  gave  out,  and  sinking  upon  the  ground, 
begged  his  friend  to  leave  him  and  secure  his  own  safety. 

"Never!  "  cried  Duncan,  "never!  There  would  be 
more,  many  more,  to  mourn  your  loss  than  mine.  Who 
would  shed  a  tear  for  me  but  Aunt  Wealthy  ?  Dear  old 
soul,  it  would  be  hard  for  her,  I  know ;  but  she'd  soou 
follow  me." 

"  Yes,  you  are  her  all;  but  there's  a  large  family  of  us, 
and  I  could  easily  be  spared." 

Duncan  shook  his  head.  "  Was  your  brother  who  fell 
at  Ball's  Bluff  easily  spared  ? ,  But  hark  !  what  was  that  ?  " 
He  bent  his  ear  to  the  ground.  "The  distant  bay  of 
hounds !  We  must  push  on  !  "  he  cried,  starting  up  is 
haste. 

"Bloodhounds  on  our  track?  Horrible  !  "  exclaimed 
Harold,  also  starting  to  his  feet,  weakness  and  fatigue 
forgotten  for  the  moment,  in  the  terror  inspired  by  that 
thought. 

Duncan  again  gave  him  the  support  of  his  arm,  and 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  283 

for  the  next  half- hour  they  pressed  on  quite  rapidly ;  yet 
their  pursuers  were  gaining  on  them,  for  the  bay  of  the 
hounds,  though  still  distant,  could  now  be  distinctly 
heard,  and  Allison's  strength  again  gave  away. 

"  I — can — go  no  farther,  Duncan,"  he  said,  pantingly ; 
"  let  me  climb  up  yon  tall  oak  and  conceal  myself  among 
the  branches,  while  you  hurry  on." 

"No,  no;  they  would  discover  you  directly,  and  it 
would  be  surrender  or  die.  Ah,  see  !  there's  a  little  log 
cabin  behind  those  bushes,  and  who  knows  but  we  may 
find  help  there.  Courage,  and  hope,  my  boy  \ ' '  and  al- 
most carrying  Harold,  Duncan  hurried  to  the  door  of  the 
hut. 

Pushing  it  open,  and  seeing  an  old  negro  inside, 
"Cato,  Caesar " 

"Uncle  Scip,  sah,"  grinned  the  negro. 

"  Well,  no  matter  for  the  name ;  will  you  help  us  ? 
We're  Federal  soldiers  just  escaped  from  Andersonville, 
and  they're  after  us  with  bloodhounds.  Can  you  tell  us 
of  anything  that  will  put  the  savage  brutes  off  the 
scent?" 

"  Sah  ?  " 

"  Something  that  will  stop  the  hounds  from  following 
us — quick,  quick  !  if  you  know  anything." 

The  negro  sprang  up,  reached  a  bottle  from  a  shelf, 
and  handing  it  to  Harry,  said,  "  Turpentine,  sah ;  rub 
um  on  your  feet,  gen'lemen,  an'  de  hounds  won't  follah 
you  no  moah.  But  please,  sahs,  go  little  ways  off  into 
the  woods  fo'  you  use  um,  so  de  rebs  not  tink  dis  chile 
gib  um  to  ye." 

Harry  clutched  the  bottle,  throwing  down  a  ten-dollar 


284  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

bill  (all  the  money  he  had  about  him)  at  "Uncle  Scip's 
feet,  and  dragging  Harold  some  hundred  yards  farther 
into  the  depths  of  the  wood,  seated  him  on  a  log, 
applied  the  turpentine  plentifully  to  his  feet,  and  then  to 
his  own. 

All  this  time  the  baying  of  the  hounds  came  nearer 
and  nearer,  till  it  seemed  that  the  next  moment  would 
bring  them  into  sight. 

"Up  !  "  cried  Harry,  flinging  away  the  empty  bottle, 
"  one  more  tug  for  life  and  liberty,  or  we  are  lost !  " 

Harold  did  not  speak,  but  hope  and  fear  once  more 
inspiring  him  with  temporary  strength,  he  rose  and  hur- 
ried on  by  the  side  of  his  friend.  Coming  presently  to  a 
cleared  space,  they  almost  flew  across  it,  and  gained  the 
shelter  of  the  woods  beyond.  The  cry  of  the  hounds 
was  no  longer  heard. 

"  They've  lost  the  scent,  sure  enough,"  said  Duncan, 
exultingly ;  "  a  little  farther  and  I  think  we  may  venture 
to  rest  awhile,  concealing  ourselves  in  some  thicket.  In- 
deed 'twill  now  be  safer  to  hide  by  day,  and  continue 
our  journey  by  night." 

They  did  so,  spending  that  and  the  next  day  in  hiding, 
living  upon  roots  and  berries,  and  the  next  two  nights  in 
'traveling  in  the  supposed  direction  of  the  nearest  Union 
camp,  coming  upon  the  pickets  about  sunrise  of  the  third 
day.  They  were  of  Captain  Duncan's  own  regiment, 
and  he  was  immediately  recognized  with  a  delighted, 
"Hurrah!  " 

"  Hurrah  for  the  Union  and  the  old  flag  !  "  returned 
Harry,  waving  a  green  branch  above  his  head,  in  lieu  of 
the  military  cap  he  had  been  robbed  of  by  his  captors. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVENTH. 

"  In  peace,  love  tunes  the  shepherd's  reed ; 
In  war,  he  mounts  the  warrior's  steed ; 
In  halls,  in  gay  attire  is  seen ; 
In  hamlets,  dances  on  the  green ; 
Love  rules  the  court,  the  camp,  the  grove, 
And  men  below  and  saints  above  ; 
For  love  is  heaven,  and  heaven  is  love." 

— SCOTT. 

" ESCAPED  prisoners  from  Andersonville,  eh?  "  queried 
the  guard  gathering  about  them. 

"Yes;  and  more  than  half-starved;  especially  my 
friend  here,  Captain  Allison  of  the " 

But  the  sentence  was  left  unfinished ;  for  at  that  in- 
stant Harold  reeled,  and  would  have  fallen  but  for  the 
strong  arm  of  another  officer  quickly  outstretched  to  save 
him. 

They  made  a  litter  and  carried  him  into  camp,  where 
restoratives  were  immediately  applied. 

He  soon  recovered  from  his  faintness,  but  was  found 
to  be  totally  unfit  for  duty,  and  sent  to  the  hospital  at 
Washington,  where  he  was  placed  in  a  bed  adjoining  that 
of  his  brother  Richard,  and  allowed  to  share  with  him  in 
the  attentions  of  Dr.  King,  Miss  Lottie,  and  his  own  sis- 
ter May. 

How  they  all  wept  over  him — reduced  almost  to  a 
skeleton,  so  wan,  so  wea.k,  so  aged,  in  those  few  short 
months. 

285 


286  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

He  recognized  his  brother  and  sister  with  a  faint  smile, 
a  murmured  word  or  two,  then  sank  into  a  state  of  semi- 
stupor,  from  which  he  roused  only  when  spoken  to,  re- 
lapsing into  it  again  immediately. 

Slowly,  very  slowly,  medical  skill  and  tender,  careful 
nursing  told  upon  his  exhausted  frame  till  at  length  he 
seemed  to  awake  to  new  life,  began  to  notice  what  was 
going  OL  about  him,  was  able  to  take  part  hi  a  cheerful 
chat  now  and  then,  and  became  eager  for  news  from 
home  and  of  the  progress  of  the  war. 

Months  had  passed  away.  In  the  meantime  Richard 
had  returned  to  camp,  and  Harry  Duncan,  wounded  in 
a  late  battle,  now  occupied  his  deserted  bed  in  the  hos- 
pital. 

Harry  was  suffering,  but  in  excellent  spirits. 

"  Cheer  up,  Allison,"  he  said  ;  "  you  and  I  will  never 
go  back  to  Andersonville ;  the  war  can't  last  much 
longer,  and  we  may  consider  the  Union  saved.  Ah ! 
this  is  a  vast  improvement  upon  Andersonville  fare,"  he 
added  gayly,  as  Lottie  and  May  appeared  before  them, 
each  bearing  a  tray  with  a  delicious  little  lunch  upon  it. 
"  Miss  Lottie,  I'm  almost  tempted  to  say  it  pays  to  be  ill 
or  wounded,  that  one  may  be  tended  by  fair  ladies' 
hands." 

"Ah,  that  speech  should  have  come  from  Mr.  Allison, 
for  May  is  fair  and  her  hands  are  white,  while  mine  are 
brown,"  she  answered  demurely,  as  she  set  her  tray  within 
his  reach,  May  doing  the  same  for  Harold. 

"None  the  less  beautiful,  Miss  King,"  returned  Dun- 
can gallantly.  "  Many  a  whiter  hand  is  not  half  so 
shapely  or  so  useful.  Now  reward  me  for  that  pretty 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  287 

compliment  by  coaxing  your  father  to  get  me  well  as  fast 
as  possible,  that  I  may  have  a  share  in  the  taking  of 
Richmond." 

"  That  would  be  a  waste  of  breath,  as  he's  doing  all 
he  can  already ;  but  I'll  do  my  part  with  coddling,  write 
all  your  letters  for  you — business,  friendship,  love — and 
do  anything  else  desired ;  if  in  my  power." 

"You're  very  good,"  he  said,  with  a  furtive  glance  at 
May,  who  seemed  to  see  or  hear  nothing  but  her  brother, 
who  was  asking  about  the  last  news  from  home;  "  very 
good  indeed,  Miss  King ;  especially  as  regards  the  love- 
letters.  I  presume  it  would  not  be  necessary  for  me  even 
to  be  at  the  trouble  of  dictating  them?  " 

"  Oh,  no,  certainly  not !  " 

"  Joking  aside,  I  shall  be  greatly  obliged  if  you  will 
write  to  Aunt  Wealthy  to-day  for  me." 

"With  pleasure;  especially  as  I  can  tell  her  your 
wound  is  not  a  dangerous  one,  and  you  will  not  lose  a 
limb.  But  do  tell  me.  What  did  you  poor  fellows  get 
to  eat  at  Anderson ville  ?  " 

"  Well,  one  week's  daily  ration  consisted  of  one  pint 
of  corn-meal  ground  up  cob  and  all  together,  four  ounces 
of  mule  meat,  generally  spoiled  and  emitting  anything 
but  an  appetizing  odor  ;  but  then  we  were  not  troubled 
with  want  of — the  best  of  sauce  for  our  meals." 

"  Hunger  ?  "  1 

"  Yes ;  we'd  plenty  of  that  always.  In  addition  to  the 
corn-meal  and  meat,  we  had  a  half  pint  of  peas  full  of 
bugs." 

"Oh  !  you  poor  creatures  !  I  hope  it  was  a  little  bet- 
ter the  alternate  week." 


288  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Just  the  same,  except,  in  lieu  of  the  corn -meal,  we 
3iad  three  square  inches  of  corn  bread." 

"Is  it  jest;  or  earnest?"  asked  Lottie,  appealing  to 
Harold. 

"  Dead  earnest,  Miss  King;  and  for  medicine  we  had 
Sumac  and  white-oak  bark." 

"  No  matter  what  ailed  you  ?  " 

"Oh,  yes;  that  made  no  difference." 

To  Harry's  impatience  the  winter  wore  slowly  away 
while  he  was  confined  within  the  hospital  walls  ;  yet  the 
daily,  almost  hourly  sight  of  May  Allison's  sweet  face, 
and  the  sound  of  her  musical  voice,  went  far  to  reconcile 
him  to  this  life  of  inactivity  and  "  inglorious  ease,"  as 
he  termed  it  in  his  moments  of  restless  longing  to  be 
again  in  the  field. 

By  the  last  of  March  this  ardent  desire  was  granted, 
and  he  hurried  away  in  fine  spirits,  leaving  May  pale  and 
tearful,  but  with  a  ring  on  her  finger  that  had  not  been 
there  before. 

"  Ah,"  said  Lottie,  pointing  to  it  with  a  merry  twinkle 
in  her  eye,  and  passing  her  arm  about  May's  waist  as 
she  spoke,  "  I  shall  be  very  generous,  and  not  tease  as 
you  did  when  somebody  else  treated  me  exactly  so." 

"It  is  good  of  you,"  whispered  May,  laying  her  wet 
cheek  on  her  friend's  shoulder;  "  and  I'm  ever  so  glad 
you're  to  be  my  sister. " 

"And  won't  Aunt  Wealthy  rejoice  over  you  as  over  a 
mine  of  gold  !  " 

Poor  Harold,  sitting  pale  and  weak  upon  the  side  of 
his  cot,  longing  to  be  with  his  friend,  sharing  his  labors 
and  perils,  yet  feeling  that  the  springs  of  life  were  broken 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  289 

within  him,  was  lifting  up  a  silent  prayer  for  strength  to 
endure  to  the  end. 

A  familiar  step  drew  near,  and  Dr.  King  laid  his  hand 
On  the  young  man's  shoulder. 

"  Cheer  up,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said,  "  we  are  trying  to 
get  you  leave  to  go  home  for  thirty  days,  and  the  war 
will  be  over  before  the  time  expires ;  so  that  you  will  not 
have  to  come  back." 

"  Home  !  "  and  Harold's  eye  brightened  for  a  moment; 
"yes,  I  should  like  to  die  at  home,  with  mother  and 
father,  brothers  and  sisters  about  me." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  die  just  yet,"  returned  the 
doctor,  with  assumed  gayety;  "and  home  and  mother 
will  do  wonders  for  you." 

"  Dr.  King,"  and  the  blue  eyes  looked  up  calmly  and 
steadily  into  the  physician's  face,  "  please  tell  me  exactly 
what  you  think  of  my  case.  Is  there  any  hope  of  re- 
covery ?" 

"  You  may  improve  very  much  :  I  think  you  will  when 
you  get  home ;  and,  though  there  is  little  hope  of  the 
entire  recovery  of  your  former  health  and  strength,  you 
may  live  for  years." 

"  But  it  is  likely  I  shall  not  live  another  year  ?  do  not 
be  afraid  to  say  so  :  I  should  rather  welcome  the  news. 
Am  I  not  right?" 

"Yes;  I — I  think  you  are  nearing  home,  my  dear 
boy ;  the  land  where  '  the  inhabitant  shall  not  say,  I  am 
sick.'  " 

There  was  genuine  feeling  in  the  doctor's  tone. 

A  moment's  silence,  and  Harold  said,  "  Thank  you. 
It  is  what  I  have  suspected  for  some  time ;  and  it  causes 


290  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

me  no  regret,  save  for  the  sake  of  those  who  love  me  and 
will  grieve  over  my  early  death." 

"  But  don't  forget  that  there  is  still  a  possibility  of  re- 
cuperation ;  while  there's  life  there's  hope." 

"  True  !  and  I  will  let  them  hope  on  as  long  as  they 
can." 

The  doctor  passed  on  to  another  patient,  and  Harold 
was  again  left  to  the  companionship  of  his  own  thoughts. 
But  not  for  long  ;  they  were  presently  broken  in  upon  by 
the  appearance  of  May  with  a  very  bright  face. 

"  See  !  "  sly  cried  joyously,  holding  up  a  package; 
"letters  from  home,  and  Naples  too.  Rose  writes  to 
mamma,  and  she  has  enclosed  the  letter  for  our  benefit." 

"  Then  let  us  enjoy  it  together.  Sit  here  and  read  it 
to  me ;  will  you  ?  My  eyes  are  rather  weak,  you  know, 
and  I  see  the  ink  is  pale." 

"But  mamma's  note  to  you ? " 

"  Can  wait  its  turn.  I  always  like  to  keep  the  best  till 
the  last." 

Harold  hardly  acknowledged  to  himself  that  he  was 
very  eager  to  hear  news  from  Elsie ;  even  more  than  to 
read  the  loving  words  from  his  mother's  pen. 

"Very  well,  then;  there  seems  to  be  no  secret,"  said 
May,  glancing  over  the  contents ;  and  seating  herself  by 
his  side  she  began. 

After  speaking  of  some  other  matters,  Rose  went 
on :  "  But  I  have  kept  my  greatest  piece  till  now.  Our 
family  is  growing;  we  have  another  grandson  who  ar- 
rived about  two  weeks  ago ;  Harold  Allison  Travilla  by 
name. 

"  Elsie  is  doing  finely ;  the  sleepy  little  newcomer  is 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  291 

greatly  admired  and  loved  by  old  and  young ;  we  make 
as  great  a  to-do  over  him  as  though  he  were  the  first  in- 
stead of  the  fourth  grandchild.  My  husband  and  I  are 
growing  quite  patriarchal. 

"Elsie  is  the  loveliest  and  the  best  of  mothers,  perfectly 
devoted  to  her  children ;  so  patient  and  so  tender,  so 
loving  and  gentle,  and  yet  so  firm.  Mr.  Travilla  and 
she  are  of  one  mind  in  regard  to  their  training,  requiring 
as  prompt  and  cheerful  obedience  as  Horace  always  has ; 
yet  exceedingly  indulgent  wherever  indulgence  can  do 
no  harm.  One  does  not  often  see  so  well-trained  and 
yet  so  merry  and  happy  a  family  of  little  folks. 

"Tell  our  Harold — my  poor  dear  brother — that  we 
hope  his  name-child  will  be  an  honor  to  him." 

"  Aie  you  not  pleased  ?"  asked  May,  pausing  to  look 
up  at  him. 

"Yes,"  he  answered,  with  a  quiet,  rather  melancholy 
smile ;  "  they  are  very  kind  to  remember  me  so.  I&ope 
they  will  soon  bring  the  little  fellow  to  see  me.  Ah,  I 
knew  Elsie  would  make  just  such  a  lovely  mother." 

"Nothing  about  the  time  of  their  return,"  observed 
May,  as  she  finished  reading;  "but  they  will  hardly 
linger  long  after  the  close  of  the  war." 

May  had  left  the  room,  and  Harold  lay  languid  and 
weak  upon  his  cot.  A  Confederate  officer,  occupying 
the  next,  addressed  him,  rousing  him  out  of  the  reverie 
into  which  he  had  fallen. 

"  Excuse  me,  sir,  but  I  could  not  help  hearing  some 
parts  of  the  letter  read  aloud  by  the  lady — your  sister,  I 
believe " 

"  Yes.     Of  course  you  could  not  help  hearing,  and 


292  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

there  is  no  harm  done,"  Harold  answered  with  a  friendly 
tone  and  smiie.  "  So  no  need  for  apologies." 

"  But  there  is  something  else.  Did  you  know  any- 
thing of  a  Lieutenant  Walter  Dinsmore,  belonging  to  our 
side,  who  fell  in  the  battle  of  Shiloh?  " 

"Yes;  knew  and  loved  him!"  exclaimed  Harold, 
raising  himself  on  his  elbow,  and  turning  a  keenly  inter- 
ested, questioning  gaze  upon  the  stranger. 

"Then  it  is,  it  must  be  the  same  family,"  said  the 
latter,  half  to  himself,  half  to  Harold. 

"  Same  as  what,  sir  ?  " 

"That  letter  I  could  not  help  hearing  was  dated 
Naples,  signed  Rose  Dinsmore,  and  talked  of  Elsie,  Mr. 
Travilla,  and  their  children.  Now  Lieutenant  Dinsmore 
told  me  he  had  a  brother  residing  temporarily  in  Naples, 
and  also  a  niece,  a  Mrs.  Elsie  Travilla ;  and  before  going 
into  the  fight  he  intrusted  to  me  a  small  package  directed 
to  her,  with  the  request  that,  if  he  fell,  I  would  have  it 
forwarded  to  her  when  an  opportunity  offered.  Will  you, 
sir,  take  charge  of  it,  and  see  that  it  reaches  the  lady's 
hands  ?" 

"  With  pleasure.  How  glad  she  will  be  to  get  it,  for 
she  loved  Walter  dearly." 

"  They  were  near  of  an  age  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  the  uncle  a  trifle  younger  than  the  niece." 

"Dinsmore  and  I  were  together  almost  constantly 
during  the  last  six  months  of  his  life,  and  became  very 
intimate.  My  haversack,  Smith,  if  yni  please,"  ad- 
dressing a  nurse. 

It  was  brought,  opened,  and  a  small  package  take* 
from  it  and  given  to  Harold, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  293 

He  gazed  upon  it  with  sad  thoughtfulness  for  a  mo* 
ment;  then,  bestowing  it  safely  in  his  breast-pocket, 
"Thank  you  very  much,"  he  said,  "  I  will  deliver  it 
with  my  own  hand,  if  she  returns  from  Europe  as  soon 
as  we  expect." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHTH. 

••  She  led  me  first  to  God ; 
Her  words  and  prayers  were  my  young  spirit's  dew.'- 

— JOHN  PIERPONT. 

ELMGROVE,  the  country-seat  of  the  elder  Mr.  Allison, 
had  never  looked  lovelier  than  on  a  beautiful  June  morn- 
ing in  the  year  1865. 

The  place  had  been  greatly  improved  since  Elsie's  first 
sight  of  it,  while  it  was  still  Rose's  girlhood's  home 
where  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  his  little  daughter  were  so  hos- 
pitably entertained  for  many  weeks. 

There  was  now  a  second  dwelling-house  on  the  estate, 
but  a  few  hundred  yards  distant  from  the  fi'rst,  owned  by 
Edward  Allison,  and  occupied  by  himself,  wife,  and 
children,  of  whom  there  were  several. 

Our  friends  from  Naples  had  arrived  the  night  before. 
The  Dinsmores  were  domiciled  at  the  paternal  mansion, 
the  Travillas  with  Edward  and  Adelaide. 

The  sun  was  not  yet  an  hour  high  as  Elsie  stood  at  the 
open  window  of  her  dressing-room,  looking  out  over  the 
beautiful  grounds  to  the  brook  beyond,  on  whose  grassy 
banks,  years  ago,  she  and  Harold  and  Sophie  had  spent 
so  many  happy  hours.  How  vividly  those  scenes  of  her 
childhood  rose  up  before  her  ! 

"Dear  Harold  !  "   she  murmured,  with  a  slight  sigh, 
"  how  kind  he  always  was  to  me." 
294 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  295 

She  could  not  think  of  him  without  pain,  remember- 
ing their  last  interview  and  his  present  suffering.  She 
had  not  seen  him  yet,  but  had  learned  from  others  that 
those  months  at  Anderson ville  had  injured  his  health  so 
seriously  that  it  was  not  likely  ever  to  be  restored. 

"What  happy  children  we  were  in  those  days,"  her 
thoughts  ran  on ;  "  and  I  am  even  happier  now,  my 
treasures  have  so  increased  with  the  rolling  years ;  but 
they !  what  bitter  trials  they  are  enduring ;  though  not 
less  deserving  of  prosperity  than  I,  who  am  but  a  miser- 
able sinner.  But  it  is  whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chas- 
teneth." 

At  that  moment  the  sound  of  little  hurrying  feet,  en- 
tering the  room,  and  glad  young  voices  crying,  "  Good- 
morning,  dear  mamma  !  "  broke  in  upon  the  current  of 
her  thoughts. 

"  Good-morning,  my  darlings,"  she  said,  turning  from 
the  window  to  embrace  them.  "All  well  and  bright! 
Ah,  how  good  our  heavenly  Father  is  to  us  !" 

"Yes,  mamma,  it  is  like  my  text,"  said  wee  Elsie. 
"  We  have  each  a  short  one  this  morning.  Mine  is, 
'God  is  love.'  " 

Mamma  had  sat  down  and  taken  Violet  on  her  lap, 
while  Elsie  and  Eddie  stood  one  on  each  side. 

Three  lovelier  children  fond  mother  never  looked 
upon.  Elsie,  now  seven  years  old,  was  her  mother's 
miniature.  Eddie,  a  bright  manly  boy  of  five,  had  Mr. 
Dinsmore's  dark  eyes  and  hair,  firm  mouth  and  chin; 
but  the  rest  of  his  features,  and  the  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, were  those  of  his  own  father.  Violet  resembled 
both  her  mother  and  the  grandmother  whose  name  she 


296  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

bore ;  she  was  a  blonde,  with  exquisitely  fair  complexion, 
large  deep  blue  eyes,  heavily  fringed  with  curling  lashes 
several  shades  darker  than  the  ringlets  of  pale  gold  that; 
adorned  the  pretty  head.  * 

"True,  beautiful  words,"  the  mother  said,  in  reply  to 
her  little  daughter ;  "  «  God  is  love  ! '  Never  forget  it, 
my  darlings ;  never  forget  to  thank  Him  for  His  love  and 
goodness  to  you ;  never  fear  to  trust  His  love  and  care. 
Can  you  tell  me,  dear,  of  some  of  His  good  gifts  to 
you?" 

"Our  dear,  kind  mamma  and  papa,"  answered  Eddie 
quickly,  leaning  affectionately  against  her,  his  dark  eyes 
lifted  to  her  face,  full  of  almost  passionate  affection. 

"Mammy  too,"  added  Violet. 

"And  dear,  dear  grandpa  and  grandma:  and  oh,  so 
many  more,"  said  Elsie. 

Rose  was  called  grandma  now,  by  her  own  request. 

"Yes,  dear  grandpa  and  grandma,  and  so  many 
more,"  eckoed  the  other  two. 

"But  Jesus  the  best  gift  of  all,  mamma,"  continued 
little  Elsie. 

"Yes,  my  precious  ones,"  returned  the  mother,  in 
moved  tones,  "Jesus  the  best  of  all;  for  He  loves  you 
better  than  even  papa  and  mamma  do,  and  though  they 
should  be  far  away,  He  is  ever  near,  ready  and  able  to 
help  you.  Now,  Eddie,  what  is  your  verse?  " 

"A  little  prayer,  mamma,  'Lord  help  me.'  " 

"  A  prayer  that  I  hope  will  always  be  in  my  children's 
hearts  when  trouble  comes,  or  they  are  tempted  to  any 
sin.  The  dear  Saviour  loves  to  have  you  cry  to  Him  for 
help,  and  He  will  give  it." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  297 

"  Now  Vi's  tex',  mamma,"  lisped  the  little  one  on  her 
knee.  "  '  Jesus  wept.'  " 

"  Why  did  Jesus  weep,  little  daughter  ?  " 

"  'Cause  He  so  tired  ?  so  sick?  naughty  mans  so  cross 
to  Him?" 

"No,  dear;  it  was  not  for  any  sorrow  or  trouble  of 
His  own  that  Jesus  shed  those  tears.  Can  you  tell  us 
why  it  was,  Elsie  ?  " 

"  Yes,  mamma ;  He  was  so  sorry  for  poor  Martha  and 
Mary,  'cause  their  brother  Lazarus  was  dead." 

"  Yes,  and  for  all  the  dreadful  sufferings  and  sorrows 
that  sin  has  brought  into  the  world.  We  are  not  told  that 
Jesus  wept  for  His  own  trials  and  pains ;  but  He  wept  for 
others.  We  must  try  to  be  like  Him ;  to  bear  our  own 
troubles  patiently,  and  to  feel  for  the  grief  and  pain  of 
other  people. 

"We  must  try  to  keep  these  thoughts  in  our  hearts  all 
the  day  long  :  that  God  is  love ;  that  Jesus  is  our  help 
in  every  trouble  and  temptation,  that  He  feels  for  us,  and 
we  must  feel  for  others,  and  do  what  we  can  to  make 
them  happy.  Now  we  will  kneel  down  and  ask  the  dear 
Saviour  to  help  us  to  do  this." 

The  prayer  was  very  short  and  simple ;  so  that  even 
Baby  Vi  could  understand  every  word. 

There  was  a  moment's  quiet  after  they  had  risen  from 
their  knees ;  then  the  children  went  to  the  window  to 
look  out  upon  the  grounds,  which  they  had  hardly  seen 
last  night. 

" Mamma  !  "  said  Elsie.  "I  see  a  brook  away 
over  yonder;  and  there  are  big  trees  there,  and  nice 
green  grass.  Mamma,  is  that  where  you  and  Aunt 


298  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Sophie  and  Uncle  Harold  used  to  play  when  you  weie  a 
little  girl  ?  " 

"Yes,  daughter." 

"  Oh,  mamma,  please  tell  us  again  about  the  time 
when  you  waded  in  the  brook,  and  thought  you'd  lost 
your  rings ;  and  dear  grandpa  was  so  kind  and  didn't 
scold  or  punish  you  at  all." 

"  Yes,  mamma,  do  tell  it." 

"  Please  mamma,  do,"  joined  in  the  other  little 
voices  ;  and  mamma  kindly  complied. 

That  story  finished,  it  was,  "  Now,  mamma,  please  tell 
another ;  please  tell  about  the  time  when  you  wanted  to 
go  with  the  school  children  to  pick  strawberries,  and 
grandpa  said  'No.'  " 

"  Ah,  I  was  rather  a  naughty  little  girl  that  time,  and 
cried  because  I  couldn't  have  my  own  way/'  answered 
the  mother  musingly,  with  a  dreamy  look  in  her  eyes 
and  a  tender  smile  playing  about  her  lips  as  she  almost 
seemed  to  hear  again  the  loved  tones  of  her  father's  voice, 
and  to  feel  the  clasp  of  his  arm  as  he  drew  her  to  his 
knee  and  laid  her  head  against  his  breast,  asking, 
"Which  was  my  little  daughter  doubting,  this  afternoon 
— papa's  wisdom,  or  his  love?" 

But  her  own  little  Elsie's  arm  had  stolen  about  her 
neck,  the  cherry  lips  were  pressed  again  and  again  to 
her  cheek,  and  the  sweet  child  voice  repelled  the  charge 
with  indignation. 

"  Mamma,  you  couldn't  help  the  tears  coming  when 
you  were  so  disappointed  ;  and  that  was  all.  You  didn't 
say  one  naughty  word.  And  grandpa  says  you  were  the 
best  little  girl  he  ever  saw." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  299 

"And  papa  says  just  the  same,"  added  a  pleasant, 
wanly  voice  from  the  door,  as  Mr.  Travilla  came  in, 
closing  it  after  him. 

Then  the  three  young  voices  joined  in  a  glad  chorus, 
"Papa!  papa!  good-morning,  dear  papa." 

"Good-morning,  papa's  dear  pets,"  he  said,  putting 
his  arms  round  all  three  at  once,  as  they  clustered 
about  him,  and  returning  with  interest  their  affectionate 
caresses. 

"And  so  you  have  already  been  teasing  poor  mamma 
for  stories  ?  " 

"Did  we  tease  and  trouble  you,  mamma?"  asked 
Elsie,  a  little  remorsefully,  going  back  to  her  mother's 
side. 

"No,  darling;  it  always  gives  me  pleasure  to  gratify 
my  dear  children.  And,  papa,  they  have  been  very 
good." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  it." 

"  Mamma  and  papa,  may  we  go  down  and  play  by 
that  brook  after  breakfast  ?"  asked  Elsie. 

"  And  wade  in  the  water  like  mamma  did  when  she 
was  a  little  girl  ?  "  added  Eddie. 

"  Yes,  with  Uncle  Joe  and  Aunt  Chloe  to  take  care 
of  you  ;  if  mamma  is  willing,"  answered  their  father. 

Mamma  said  yes,  too,  and  made  the  little  hearts  quite 
happy. 

They  returned  to  the  window,  and  presently  sent 
up  a  joyous  shout.  "  Grandpa,  our  dear  grandpa,  is 
coming !  " 

"  Shall  I  go  down  and  bring  him  up  here,  mamma  ?  * 
asked  Elsie. 


300  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  No,  dear,  we  will  go  down  to  grandpa,  and  not 
trouble  him  to  come  up.  Besides,  Aunt  Adelaide  wants 
to  see  him  as  well  as  we." 

"Yes,  mamma's  plan  is  the  best,"  said  Mr.  Travilla, 
giving  Elsie  one  hand  and  Eddie  the  other,  while  his 
wife  led  the  way  with  little  Violet. 

They  found  Mr.  Dinsmore  in  the  lower  hall,  with 
Adelaide  weeping  almost  hysterically  in  his  arms. 

"  You  are  the  only  brother  I  have  left,"  she  sobbed. 
"  Poor,  poor  dear  Walter  and  Arthur  !  Oh,  that  dread- 
ful, dreadful  war ! ' ' 

He  caressed  and  soothed  her  with  tender  words. 
"  Dear  sister,  I  will  do  all  I  can  to  make  up  their  loss 
to  you.  And  our  father  is  left  us ;  your  husband  spared, 
too.  And  let  us  not  forget  that  almighty  Friend,  that 
Elder  Brother  on  the  throne,  who  will  never  leave  or  for- 
sake the  feeblest  one  who  trusts  in  Him." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  know,  I  know !  He  has  been  very 
good  to  me;  but  I  must  weep  for  the  dear  ones 
gone " 

"  And  He  will  not  chide  you — He  who  wept  with 
Martha  and  Mary  over  their  dead  brother." 

The  children  were  awed  into  silence  and  stillness  by 
the  scene;  but  as  Adelaide  withdrew  herself  from  her 
brother's  arms,  while  he  and  her  husband  grasped  each 
other  by  the  hand  in  a  cordial  greeting,  little  Elsie  drew 
near  her,  and  taking  gently  hold  of  her  hand,  dropped 
upon  it  a  kiss  and  a  sympathizing  tear. 

"Darling  !  "  said  Adelaide,  stooping  to  fold  the  child 
in  her  arms;  then  looking  up  at  her  niece,  "What 
a  wonderful  likeness,  Elsie !  I  can  hardly  believe  it 


JSLSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  30* 

is  not  yourself,  restored  to  us  as  you  were  at  her 
age." 

The  morning  greetings  were  soon  exchanged,  and 
Adelaide  led  the  way  to  her  pleasant  sitting-room. 

"What  is  the  latest  news  from  home,  Adelaide?" 
asked  Mr.  Dinsmore,  with  evident  anxiety.  "I  have 
not  heard  a  word  for  months  past." 

"I  had  a  long  letter  from  Lora  yesterday;"  she 
answered ;  "the  first  since  the  close  of  the  war.  Her 
eldest  son,  Ned,  and  Enna's  second  husband,  were  killed 
in  the  battle  of  Bentonville,  last  March.  Lora's  hus- 
band has  lost  an  arm,  one  of  his  brothers  a  leg;  the 
others  are  all  killed,  and  the  family  utterly  ruined. 

"  The  Carringtons — father  and  sons — have  all  fallen. 
Sophie  is  here,  with  her  orphan  children ;  her  mother-in- 
law,  with  her  own  daughter,  Lucy  Ross.  Philip  has 
escaped  unhurt.  They  will  all  be  here  next  week  to  at- 
tend May's  wedding. 

"Papa,  Louise — you  know  that  she  too  has  lost  her 
husband — and  Enna  are  all  at  the  Oaks  ;  for  Roselands 
is  a  ruin,  Ion  not  very  much  better,  Lora  says." 

"  And  the  Oaks  has  escaped  ?  " 

"Yes,  almost  entirely;  not  being  visible  from  the 
road.  Papa  sends  a  message  to  you.  He  is  too  heart- 
broken to  write.  He  knows  he  is  welcome  in  your 
house;  he  is  longing  to  see  you,  now  his  only  son — " 
Adelaide's  voice  faltered,  and  it  was  a  moment  ere  she 
could  go  on — "but  he  would  have  you  stay  away  till 
September,  not  risking  a  return  during  the  hottest 
season ;  and,  if  you  wish,  he  will  attend  to  the  planta- 
tion, hiring  blacks  to  work  it." 


502  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"My  poor,  poor  old  father!"  Mr.  Dinsmore  ex- 
claimed, with  emotion.  "Welcome  in  my  house?  If  I 
had  but  a  dollar,  I  would  share  it  with  him." 

"  He  shall  never  want  a  home,  while  any  of  us  live  !  " 
sprang  simultaneously  from  the  lips  of  Mr.  Allison  and 
Mr.  Travilla. 

Adelaide  and  Elsie  were  too  much  moved  to  speak, 
but  each  gave  her  husband  a  look  of  grateful  affection. 

"Thank  you  both,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  said.  "Adelaide, 
I  shall  write  my  father  to-day.  Does  Lora  say  that  he  is 
well?" 

Mrs.  Allison  could  hardly  speak  for  tears,  as  she  an- 
swered, "  He  is  not  ill,  but  sadly  aged  by  grief  and  care. 
But  you  shall  read  the  letter  for  yourself.  Stay  to  break- 
fast with  us  (there's  the  bell),  and  I'll  give  it  to  you 
afterwards." 

"  Thanks ;  but  I  fear  they  may  wait  breakfast  for  me 
at  the  other  house." 

"No;  I  will  send  them  word  at  once  that  we  have 
kept  you." 

There  was  an  effort  after  cheerfulness  as  they  gathered 
about  the  plentiful  board ;  but  too  many  sad  thoughts 
and  memories  had  been  called  up  in  the  hearts  of  the 
elders  of  the  party :  and  only  tne  children  were  really 

gay- 
Edward  Allison  was  pale  and  thin,  his  health  hav- 
ing suffered  from  the  hardships  incident  to  his  army 
life. 

Elsie  remarked  it,  in  a  tone  of  grief  and  concern  ;  but 
he  answered  with  a  smile,  "  I  have  escaped  so  much 
better  than  many  others,  that  I  have  more  reason  for 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  303 

thankfulness  than  complaint.  I  am  hearty  and  robust 
compared  to  poor  Harold." 

A  look  of  deep  sadness  stole  over  his  face  as  he  thus 
named  his  younger  brother. 

Elsie  understood  it  when,  an  hour  later,  the  elder  Mr. 
Allison  entered  the  parlor,  where  she  and  Adelaide  were 
chatting  together,  with  Harold  leaning  on  his  arm. 

They  both  shook  hands  with  her,  the  old  gentleman 
saying,  "  My  dear,  I  am  rejoiced  to  have  you  among  us 
again;  "  Harold  silently,  but  with  a  sad,  wistful,  yearn- 
ing look  out  of  his  large  bright  eyes,  that  filled  hers  with 
tears. 

His  father  and  Adelaide  helped  him  to  an  easy  chair, 
and  as  he  sank  back  pantingly  upon  its  cushions,  Elsie — 
completely  overcome  at  sight  of  the  feeble,  wasted  frame, 
and  wan,  sunken  features — stole  quickly  from  the  room. 

Adelaide  followed,  to  find  her  in  the  sitting-room  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  hall,  weeping  bitterly. 

"  Oh,  Aunt  Adie,"  she  sobbed ;   "  he's  dying  !  " 

"  Yes,"  Adelaide  answered,  with  the  tears  coursing 
down  her  own  cheeks,  "we  all  know  it  now;  all  but 
father  and  mother,  who  will  not  give  up  hope.  Poor 
May  !  hers  will  be  but  a  sad  wedding.  She  would  have 
put  it  off,  but  he  begged  her  not,  saying  he  wanted  to 
be  present  and  to  greet  Duncan  as  his  brother — Duncan, 
to  whom  he  owed  so  much.  But  for  him,  you  know, 
Harold  would  have  perished  at  Andersonville ;  where, 
indeed,  he  got  his  death." 

"  No,  I  have  heard  very  little  about  it." 

"  Then  Harold  will  tell  you  the  story  of  their  escape. 
Oh  1  Rose  dear,"  turning  quickly,  as  Mrs.  Dinsmore  and 


3*4  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Mrs.  Carrington  entered,  "  how  kind  !  I  was  coming  to 
see  you  directly,  but  it  was  so  good  of  you  not  to  wait." 

Elsie  was  saying,  "  Good  -morning,  mamma,"  when 
her  eye  fell  upon  the  other  figures.  Could  it  be  Sophie 
with  that  thin,  pale  face  and  large,  sad  eyes?  Sophie 
arrayed  in  widow's  weeds.  All  the  pretty  golden  curls 
hidden  beneath  the  widow's  cap?  It  was  indeed,  and 
the  next  instant  the  two  were  weeping  in  each  other's 
arms. 

"You  poor,  poor  dear  girl!  God  comfort  you!" 
Elsie  whispered. 

"  He  does,  He  has  helped  me  to  live  for  my  children, 
my  poor  fatherless  little  ones,"  Sophie  said,  amid  her 
Choking  sobs. 

"  We  must  go  back  to  father  and  Harold,"  Adelaide 
«aid  presently.  "  They  are  in  the  parlor,  where  we  left 
them  very  unceremoniously." 

"And  Harold,  I  know,  is  longing  for  a  chat  with 
Elsie,"  Sophie  said. 

They  found  the  gentlemen  patiently  awaiting  their  re- 
turn. Elsie  seated  herself  near  Harold,  who,  somewhat 
recovered  from  his  fatigue,  was  now  able  to  take  part  in 
the  conversation. 

"You  were  shocked  by  my  changed  appearance?" 
he  said,  in  an  undertone,  as  their  eyes  met  and  hers 
filled  agaiiv  "  Don't  mind  it,  I  was  never  before  so 
happy  as  now;  my  peace  is  like  a  river — calm,  deep,  and 
ever  increasing  as  it  nears  the  ocean  of  eternity.  I'm  go- 
ing home !  "  And  his  smile  was  both  bright  and  sweet. 

"Ob,  would  you  not  live — for  your  mother's  sake? 
and  to  work  for  your  Master?  " 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD,  3*5 

"Gladly,  if  it  were  His  will;  but  I  hear  Him  saying 
to  me,  '  Come  up  hither  ' ;  and  it  is  a  joyful  summons." 

"Harold,  when "  her  voice  faltered,  but  with  an 

effort  she  completed  her  sentence — "  when  did  this 
begin  ?" 

"At  Andersonville ;  I  was  in  perfect  health  when  I 
entered  the  army,"  he  answered  quickly,  divining  the 
fear  that  prompted  the  question;  "but  bad  air,  foul 
water,  wretched  and  insufficient  food,  rapidly  and  com- 
pletely undermined  my  constitution.  Yet  it  is  sweet  to 
die  for  one's  country  !  I  do  not  grudge  the  price  I  pay 
to  secure  her  liberties." 

Elsie's  eyes  sparkled  through  her  tears.  "  True 
patriotism  still  lives  !  "  she  said.  "  Harold,  I  am  proud 
of  you  and  your  brothers.  Of  dear  Walter,  too ;  for  his 
heart  was  right,  however  mistaken  his  head  may  have 
been." 

"Walter?  oh,  yes,  and  I " 

But  the  sentence  was  interrupted  by  the  entrance  of  his 
mother  and  sisters,  May  and  Daisy,  Mr.  Dinsmore,  and 
his  son  and  daughter.  Fresh  greetings,  of  course,  had  to 
be  exchanged  all  round,  and  were  scarcely  finished  when 
Mr.  Travilla  came  in  with  his  three  children. 

Elsie  called  them  to  her,  and  presented  them  to  Har- 
old with  all  a  mother's  fond  pride  in  her  darlings. 

"  I  have  taught  them  to  call  you  Uncle  Harold.  Do 
you  object?" 

"  Object  ?  far  from  it ;  I  am  proud  to  claim  them  as 
my  nephew  and  nieces." 

He  gazed  with  tender  admiration  upon  each  dear  little 
face ;  then,  drawing  the  eldest  to  him  and  putting  an 


306  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

arm  about  her,  said,  "  She  is  just  what  you  must  have 
been  at  her  age,  Elsie ;  a  little  younger  than  when  you 
first  came  to  Elmgrove.  And  she  bears  your  name  ?  " 

"  Yes;  her  papa  and  mine  would  hear  of  no  other  for 
her." 

"  I  like  to  have  mamma's  name,"  said  the  child,  in  a 
pretty,  modest  way,  looking  up  into  his  face.  "  Grandpa 
and  papa  call  mamma  Elsie,  and  me  wee  Elsie  and  little 
Elsie,  and  sometimes  daughter.  Grandpa  calls  mamma 
daughter  too,  but  papa  calls  her  wife.  Mamma,  has 
Uncle  Harold  seen  baby  ?  " 

"  My  namesake  !  ah,  I  should  like  to  see  him." 

"  There  is  mammy  on  the  porch  now,  with  him  in  her 
arms,"  cried  the  child. 

"  Go,  and  tell  her  to  bring  him  here,  daughter,  "  Elsie 
said ;  and  the  little  girl  hastened  to  obey. 

It  was  a  very  fine  babe,  and  Harold  looked  at  it  with 
interest. 

"  I  am  proud  of  my  name-child,"  he  said,  turning  to 
the  mother  with  a  gratified  smile.  "  You  and  Mr.  Tra- 
villa  were  very  kind  to  remember  me." 

The  latter,  who  had  been  engaged  in  the  exchange  of 
salutations  with  the  others,  hearing  his  name,  now  came 
up  and  took  the  hand  of  the  invalid  in  his.  He  was 
much  moved  by  the  sad  alteration  in  the  young  man, 
who,  when  last  seen  by  him,  was  in  high  health  and 
spirits — the  full  flush  of  early  manhood's  prime. 

Taking  a  seat  by  his  side,  he  inquired  with  kindly  in- 
terest how  he  was,  who  was  his  physician,  and  if  there 
had  been  any  improvement  in  the  case  of  late. 

"Thank  you,  no;  rather  the  reverse,"  Harold  said, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


y>7 


in  answer  to  the  last  inquiry.  "  I  am  weaker  than  when 
1  left  the  hospital." 

"  Ah,  that  is  discouraging ;  still,  we  will  hope  the 
disease  may  yet  take  a  favorable  turn." 

"  That  is  what  my  parents  say,"  he  answered,  with  a 
grave,  sweet  smile;  "and  though  I  have  little  hope,  I 
know  that  nothing  is  too  hard  for  the  Lord,  and  am  more 
than  willing  to  leave  it  in  His  hands." 

"  Uncle  Harold,"  said  Elsie,  coming  to  the  side  of  his 
chair  and  looking  up  into  his  face  with  eyes  full  of  ten- 
der sympathy,  "  I'm  so,  so  sorry  for  you.  I'll  ask  Jesus 
to  please  make  you  well,  or  else  take  you  soon  to  the 
happy  land  where  you'll  never  have  any  more  pain." 

"  Thank  you,  darling,"  he  said,  bending  down  to  kiss 
the  sweet  lips.  "  I  know  the  dear  Saviour  will  listen  to 
your  prayer." 

"  You  used  to  play  with  my  mamma  when  you  were  a 
little  boy  like  me ;  didn't  you,  uncle  Harold  ?  "  queried 
Eddie,  coming  up  close  on  the  other  side. 

"  Not  quite  so  small,  my  man,"  Harold  answered,  lay- 
ing his  hand  gently  on  the  child's  head.  "  Your  mamma 
was  about  the  size  of  your  Aunt  Rosie,  yonder,  and  I 
some  three  or  four  years  older." 

"  We've  been  down  to  the  brook  where  you  played  to- 
gether— you  and  mamma  and  Aunt  Sophie,"  said  Elsie. 
' « Papa  took  us,  and  I  think  it's  a  lovely  place  to 
play." 

' '  Sophie  and  I  have  talked  over  those  dear  old  times 
more  than  once,  of  late,"  Harold  remarked,  turning  to 
Mrs.  Travilla.  "  It  does  not  seem  so  very  long  ago,  and 
yet — how  many  changes  !  how  we  are  changed  !  Well. 


308  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Rosie,  what  is  it?"  for  she  was  standing  by  his  chair, 
waiting  with  eager  face  till  he  should  be  ready  to  attend 
to  her. 

"Uncle  Harold,  do  you  feel  able  to  tell  us  the  story 
about  your  being  a  prisoner,  and  how  you  got  free,  and 
back  to  the  Union  army?"  she  asked,  with  persuasive 
look  and  tone.  "  Papa  and  mamma,  and  all  of  us  that 
haven't  heard  it,  would  like  so  much  to  hear  it,  if  it 
won't  tire  you  to  talk  so  long." 

"  It  is  not  a  long  story ;  and  as  my  lungs  are  sound,  I 
do  not  think  it  will  fatigue  me,  if  you  will  all  come  near 
enough  to  hear  me  in  my  ordinary  tone  of  voice." 

They  drew  around  him,  protesting  against  his  making 
the  effort,  unless  fully  equal  to  it ;  as  another  time  would 
do  quite  as  well. 

"Thank  you  all,"  he  said;  "but  I  feel  able  for  the 
task,  and  shall  enjoy  gratifying  my  nieces  and  nephews, 
as  well  as  the  older  people." 

He  then  proceeded  with  his  narrative ;  all  listening  with 
deep  interest. 

Among  other  incidents  connected  with  his  prison  life, 
he  told  of  his  interview  with  Jackson,  and  the  poor 
wretch's  death  that  same  night. 

Elsie  shuddered  and  turned  pale,  yet  breathed  a  sigh 
of  relief  as  she  laid  her  hand  in  that  of  her  husband,  and 
turned  a  loving,  grateful  look  upon  her  father,  to  meet 
his  eyes  fixed  upon  her  with  an  expression  of  deep  thank- 
fulness, mingled  with  the  sadness  and  awe  inspired  by 
the  news  of  the  miscreant's  terrible  end. 

Harold  spent  the  day  at  his  brother's,  and  availed  him- 
self of  an  opportunity,  which  offered  that  afternoon,  to 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  309 

have  a  little  private  talk  with  Elsie,  in  which  he  delivered 
Walter's  packet,  telling  her  how  it  came  into  his  hands. 

"  Dear,  dear  Walter,"  she  said,  weeping,  "  I  have  so 
wanted  to  know  the  particulars  of  his  death,  and  am  so 
thankful  to  hear  that  he  was  a  Christian." 

"  His  friend  told  me  he  was  instantly  killed,  so  was 
spared  much  suffering." 

"I  am  thankful  for  that.  I  will  open  this  new ;  you 
will  like  to  see  the  contents." 

They  were  a  letter  from  Walter  tc  her,  and  two  photo- 
graphs— both  excellent  and  striking  likenesses;  one  of 
her  in  her  bridal  robes,  the  other  of  himself  in  his  military 
dress. 

The  first  Elsie  threw  carelessly  aside,  as  of  little  worth ; 
the  other  she  held  long  in  her  hands;  gazing  intently 
upon  it,  again  and  again  wiping  away  the  fast-falling  tears. 

"  It  is  his  own  noble,  handsome  face,"  she  murmured. 
'•'  Oh,  to  think  I  shall  not  see  it  again  in  this  world ! 
How  good  of  him  to  have  it  taken  for  me  !  "  and  again 
fihe  gazed  and  wept. 

Turning  to  her  companion  she  was  startled  by  the  ex- 
pression of  mingled  love  and  anguish  in  his  eyes,  which 
were  intently  fixed  upon  the  other  photograph  ;  he  hav- 
ing taken  it  up  as  she  threw  it  aside. 

"Oh  Harold  !  "  she  moaned,  in  low,  agitated  tones. 

He  sighed  deeply,  but  his  brow  cleared,  and  a  look  of 
peace  and  resignation  stole  over  his  face  as  he  turned  his 
eyes  on  her. 

"  I  think  there  is  no  sin  in  the  love  I  bear  you  now, 
Elsie,"  he  said  ;  "I  rejoice  in  your  happiness  and  am 
willing  to  see  you  in  the  possession  of  another;  more 


3io  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

than  willing,  since  I  must  so  soon  pass  away.  But  it 
was  not  always  so;  my  love  and  grief  were  hard  to  con- 
quer, and  this — bringing  you  before  me  just  as  you  were 
that  night  that  gave  you  to  another  and  made  my  love  a 
sin — brought  back  for  a  moment  the  anguish  that  wrung 
my  heart  at  the  sight." 

"  You  were  there,  then?  " 

"  Ye  just  for  a  few  moments.  I  found  I  must  look 
upon  the  scene,  though  it  broke  my  heart.  I  arrived  at 
the  last  minute,  stood  in  the  shadow  of  the  doorway 
during  the  ceremony,  saw  you  look  up  towards  me  at  its 
conclusion,  then  turned  and  fled  from  the  house ;  fearful 
of  being  recognized  and  forced  to  betray  my  secret  whicb 
I  felt  I  could  not  hide. 

"But  don't  weep  for  me,  dear  friend,  my  sorrow 
and  disappointment  proved  blessings  in  disguise,  fo* 
through  them  I  was  brought  to  a  saving  knowledge  erf 
Him 

«  « whom  my  soul  desires  above 
All  earthly  joy  or  earthly  love."  " 

"And  oh,  Harold,  how  infinitely  more  is  His  love 
worth  than  mine  !  " 

But  her  eye  fell  upon  Walter's  letter  lying  forgotten  in 
her  lap.  She  took  it  up,  glanced  over  it,  then  read  it 
more  carefully,  pausing  often  to  wipe  away  the  blinding 
tears.  As  she  finished,  Mr.  Travilla  came  in. 

"  Here  is  a  letter  from  Walter,  Edward,"  she  said,  in 
tremulous  tones,  as  she  handed  it  to  him. 

"Then  the  report  of  his  death  was  untrue?  "  he  ex- 
claimed inquiringly,  a  glad  look  coming  into  his  face. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  3 

"  Only  too  true,"  she  answered,  with  a  fresh  burst  of 
tears ;  and  Harold  briefly  explained. 

"  Shall  I  read  it  aloud,  wife  ?  "  Mr.  Travilla  asked. 

"  If  Harold  cares  to  hear.     There  is  no  secret." 

"I  should  like  it  greatly,"  Harold  said;  and  Mr. 
Travilla  read  it  to  him,  while  Elsie  moved  away  to  the 
farther  side  of  the  room,  her  heart  filled  with  a  strange 
mixture  of  emotions,  in  which  grief  was  uppermost. 

The  letter  was  filled  chiefly  with  an  account  of  the 
writer's  religious  experience.  Since  his  last  visit  to  the 
Oaks  he  had  been  constantly  rejoicing  in  the  love  of 
Christ,  and  now,  expecting,  as  he  did,  to  fall  in  the 
coming  battle,  death  had  no  terrors  for  him.  And  he 
owed  this,  he  said,  in  great  measure  to  the  influence  of 
his  brother  Horace  and  Elsie,  especially  to  the  beautiful 
consistency  of  her  Christian  life  through  all  the  years  he 
had  known  her. 

Through  all  her  grief  and  sadness,  what  joy  and  thank- 
fulness stirred  in  her  breast  at  that  thought.  Very  humble 
and  unworthy  she  felt ;  but  oh,  what  gladness  to  learn 
that  her  Master  had  thus  honored  her  as  an  instrument  in 
His  hands. 

The  door  opened  softly,  and  her  three  little  ones  came 
quietly  in  and  gathered  about  her.  They  had  been 
taught  thoughtfulness  for  others :  Uncle  Harold  was  ill, 
and  they  would  not  disturb  him. 

Leaning  confidingly  on  her  lap,  lifting  loving,  trust- 
ful eyes  to  her  face,  "Mamma,"  they  said,  low  and 
softly,  "  we  have  had  our  supper ;  will  you  come  with  us 
now?" 

"Yes,  dear,  presently." 


312  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"  Mamma,"  whispered  little  Elsie,  with  a  wistful, 
tender  gaze  into  the  soft  sweet  eyes  still  swimming  in 
tears,  "dear  mamma,  something  has  made  you  sorry. 
What  can  I  do  to  comfort  you  ?  " 

"  Love  me,  darling,  and  be  good ;  you  are  mamma's 
precious  little  comforter.  See  dears,"  and  she  held  the 
photograph  so  that  all  could  have  a  view,  "it  is  deat 
Uncle  Walter  in  his  soldier  dress."  A  big  tear  rolled 
down  her  cheek. 

"  Mamma,"  Elsie  said  quickly,  "how  good  he  looks  ! 
and  he  is  so  happy  where  Jesus  is." 

"  Yes,  daughter,  we  need  shed  no  tears  for  him." 

"Dear  Uncle  Walter,"  "Poor  Uncle  Walter!  "  the 
other  two  were  saying. 

"There,  papa  has  finished  reading;  go  now  and  bid 
good-night  to  him  and  Uncle  Harold,"  their  mother  said ; 
and  they  hastened  to  obey. 

They  climbed  their  father's  knees  and  hung  about  his 
neck  with  the  most  confiding  affection,  while  he  caressed 
them  over  and  over  again,  Harold  looking  on  with 
glistening  eyes. 

"  Now  some  dood  fun,  papa :  toss  Vi  up  in  oo  arms," 
said  the  little  one,  expecting  the  usual  game  of  romps. 

"  Not  to-night,  pet;  some  other  time.  Another  sweet 
kiss  for  papa,  and  now  one  for  Uncle  Harold." 

"  After  four  years  of  camp,  prison,  and  hospital  life,  it 
is  a  very  pleasant  change  to  be  among  the  children," 
Harold  said,  as  the  door  closed  upon  Elsie  and  her  little 
flock. 

"  I  feared  their  noise  and  perpetual  motion  might  dis- 
turb you,"  Mr.  Travilla  answered. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  313 

"  Not  at  all ;  yours  are  not  boisterous,  and  their  pretty 
ways  are  very  winning." 

Aunt  Chloe  and  Dinah  were  in  waiting,  and  soon 
had  the  three  small  figures  robed  each  in  its  white  night- 
dress. 

Then  mamma — seated  upon  a  sofa  with  little  Violet  on 
her  lap,  the  other  two,  one  on  each  side — was  quite  at 
their  disposal  for  the  next  half  hour  or  so;  ready  to 
listen  or  to  talk ;  her  sweet  sympathy  and  tender  love  en- 
couraging them  to  open  all  their  young  hearts  to  her,  tell- 
ing her  of  any  little  joy  or  sorrow,  trouble,  vexation,  or 
perplexity. 

"  Well,  darlings,  have  you  remembered  your  verses 
and  our  little  talk  about  them  this  morning  ? "  the 
mother  asked.  "Elsie  may  speak  first,  because  she  is 
the  eldest." 

"  Mamma,  I  have  thought  of  them  many  times," 
answered  the  sweet  child  voice;  "we  had  a  nice,  nice 
walk  with  papa  this  morning,  and  the  little  birds,  the 
brook,  and  the  trees,  and  the  pretty  flowers  and  the 
beautiful  blue  sky  all  seemed  to  say  to  me,  '  God  is  love.' 
Then  mamma,  once  I  was  tempted  to  be  naughty,  and 
I  said  in  my  heart,  'Lord,  help  me,'  and  Jesus  heard 
me." 

"  What  was  it,  dear  ?  " 

"  We  had  a  little  tea  party,  mamma,  with  our  cousins, 
out  under  the  trees,  and  there  was  pie  and  very  rich 
cake " 

"  And  'serves,"  put  in  Eddie. 

"Yes,  mamma,  and  preserves  too,  and  they  looked  so 
good,  and  I  wanted  some,  but  I  remembered  that  you 


3H  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

and  papa  don't  let  us  eat  those  things  because  they 
would  make  us  sick.  So  I  said,  *  Lord,  help  me  '  ;  and 
then  I  felt  so  glad  and  happy,  thinking  how  Jesus  loves 
me." 

"My  darling  !  He  does,  indeed,"  the  mother  said,  with 
a  gentle  kiss. 

"And  Eddie  was  good,  and  said,  'No,  thank  you; 
mamma  and  papa  don't  let  us  eat  "serves  and  pie.'  " 

"  Mamma's  dear  boy,"  and  her  hand  passed  softly  over 
the  curly  head  resting  on  her  shoulder. 

"  Mamma,  I  love  you ;  I  love  you  so  much,"  he  said, 
hugging  her  tight;  "and  dear  papa,  too;  and  Jesus. 
Mamma,  I  wanted  to  be  naughty  once  to-day  when  one 
o'  zese  cousins  took  away  my  own  new  whip  that  papa 
buyed  for  me;  but  I  remembered  I  mustn't  be  selfish  and 
cross,  and  I  said  rny  little  prayers  jus'  in  my  heart, 
mamma — and  Jesus  did  help  me  to  be  good." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  son,  and  He  will  always  help  you 
when  you  ask  Him.  And  now,  what  has  Vi  to  tell 
mamma?" 

"Vi  naughty  girl  one  time,  mamma:  ky  'cause  she 
didn't  want  mammy  wash  face  and  brush  curls.  Vi  solly 
now;  "  and  the  golden  head  dropped  upon  mamma's 
breast. 

"  Mamma's  dear  baby  must  try  and  be  patient ; 
mamma  is  sure  she  will,  and  Jesus  will  help  her  if  she 
asks  Him,  and  forgive  her,  if  she  is  sorry  for  being 
naughty,"  the  mother  said,  with  a  tender  caress.  "Now 
iet  us  sing,  '  Jesus  loves  me.'  " 

The  child  voices  blended  very  sweetly  with  the  mother's 
as  they  sang  in  concert;  then  she  told  them  a  Bible 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  315 

story,  heard  each  little  prayer,  saw  them  laid  in  theii 
beds,  gave  each  a  tender  good-night  kiss,  and  left  them 
to  their  rest. 

Passing  into  her  dressing-room,  she  found  her  husband 
there,  pacing  thoughtfully  to  and  fro.  At  sight  of  her 
a  smile  irradiated  his  whole  countenance,  while  his  arms 
opened  wide  to  receive  her. 

"My  dear,  dear  husband  !  "  she  said,  laying  her  head 
on  his  shoulder,  while  he  folded  her  to  his  heart,  "  how 
bravely  you  bear  trials ;  how  patient  and  cheerful  you 
always  are  under  all  circumstances." 

"  Not  more  so  than  my  little  wife ;  we  have  heard 
much  saddening  news  to-day,  love ;  but  most  of  it  such 
as  to  make  us  weep  for  our  friends  and  neighbors  rather  l 
than  for  ourselves." 

"That  is  true;  our  losses  are  slight,  very  slight,  com- 
pared with  those  of  multitudes  of  others ;  and  yet  it 
must  sadden  your  heart  to  know  that  your  dear  old  home 
is  in  ruins." 

"Yes,  wife,  it  does;  but  I  were  an  ungrateful  wretch 
to  murmur  and  repine,  had  I  lost  everything  but  you  and 
our  four  treasures  in  yonder  room  :  but  you  are  all  spared 
to  me,  and  I  am  by  no  means  penniless  yet." 

"Very  far  from  it,  my  own  noble  husband,"  she 
answered,  with  a  look  of  proud,  loving  admiration; 
"  for  all  I  have  is  yours  as  much  as  mine." 

"  Thanks,  dearest ;  I  am  not  too  proud  to  accept  your 
assistance,  and  we  will  build  up  the  old  home  and  make 
it  lovelier  than  ever,  for  ourselves  and  for  our  children ; 
what  a  pleasant  work  it  will  be  to  make  it  as  nearly  as 
possible  an  earthly  paradise  for  them." 


3l6  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Yes,"  she  said,  smiling  brightly;  "the  cloud  has  a 
silver  lining." 

"As  all  our  clouds  have,  dearest." 

"Yes;  for  'we  know  that  all  things  work  together  for 
good  to  them  that  love  God  ! '  But  oh,  Edward,  what 
an  awful  end  was  Jackson's.  I  shudder  to  think  of  it ! 
and  yet — oh,  I  fear  it  is  not  right — but  I  cannot  help 
feeling  it  a  relief  to  know  that  he  is  dead.  Even  in 
Europe,  I  could  not  divest  myself  of  the  fear  that  he 
might  turn  up  unexpectedly,  and  attempt  the  lives  of  my 
dear  ones." 

"It  is  a  relief  to  me  also,  and  not  wrong,  I  think,  to 
feel  it  so ;  for  we  do  not  rejoice  in  his  destruction,  but 
would  have  saved  him,  if  we  could.  Has  not  the  news 
of  Walter  comforted  you  in  some  measure?  " 

"  Yes,  oh  yes ;  the  dear,  dear  fellow  !  You  have  not 
seen  this,"  she  added,  taking  the  photograph  from  her 
pocket. 

"No;  it  is  a  striking  likeness,  and  you  will  value  it 
highly." 

"  Indeed  I  shall.  Ah,  how  strange  it  will  be  to  go 
home  and  not  find  him  there." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINTH. 

"  O  war ! — what,  what  art  thou  ? 
At  once  the  proof  and  scourge  of  man's  fallen  state." 

— HANNAH  MORE. 

RICHARD  ALLISON  had  gone  to  Lansdale  for  his  brid^ 
a  fortnight  ago ;  they  were  now  taking  their  bridal  trip 
and  expected  to  reach  Elmgrove  a  day  or  two  before  the 
wedding  of  May  and  Harry  Duncan.  The  latter  would 
bring  Aunt  Wealthy  with  him,  and  leave  her  for  a  short 
visit  among  her  friends. 

Sophie's  mother  and  sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Carrington, 
and  Lucy  Ross,  came  earlier,  arriving  only  two  days 
after  our  party  from  Europe. 

There  was  great  pleasure,  yet  mingled  with  profound 
sadness,  in  the  meeting  of  these  old  and  dear  friends. 
Lucy  and  her  mother  were  in  deep  mourning,  and  in 
Mrs.  Carrington's  countenance  Christian  resignation 
blended  with  heart-breaking  sorrow ;  grief  and  anxiety 
had  done  the  work  of  a  score  of  years,  silvering  her  hair 
and  ploughing  deep  furrows  in  the  face  that  five  years 
ago  was  still  fresh  and  fair. 

Mr.  Travilla  had  taken  wife  and  children  for  a  morn- 
ing drive,  and  on  their  return,  Adelaide,  meeting  them  at 
the  door,  said  to  her  niece,  "  They  have  come,  they  are 
in  Mrs.  Carrington's  dressing-room;  and  she  begs  that 
you  will  go  and  meet  her  there.  She  has  always  loved 
317 


3i8  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

you  so  dearly,  and  I  know  is  longing  for  your  sym- 
pathy." 

Elsie,  waiting  only  to  lay  aside  hat  and  gloves, 
hastened  to  grant  the  request  of  the  gentle  lady  for  whom 
she  cherished  almost  a  daughter's  affection. 

She  found  her  alone.  They  met  silently,  clasping 
each  other  in  a  long,  tearful  embrace,  Mrs.  Carrington's 
sobs  for  many  minutes  the  only  sound  that  broke  the 
stillness  of  the  room. 

"I  have  lost  all,"  she  said  at  length,  as  they  released 
each  other  and  sat  down  side  by  side  upon  a  sofa;  "  all : 
husband,  sons,  home " 

Sobs  choked  her  utterance,  and  Lucy  coming  hastily 
in  at  the  open  door  of  the  adjoining  room,  dropped  on 
her  knees  by  her  mother's  side,  and  taking  one  thin,  pale 
hand  in  hers,  said  tearfully,  "  Not  all,  dear  mamma;  you 
have  me,  and  Phil,  and  the  children." 

"  Me  too,  mother  dear,  and  your  Harry's  children," 
added  Sophie,  who  had  followed  her  sister,  and  nov 
knelt  with  her. 

"  Yes,  yes,  dear  daughters,  I  was  wrong  :  I  have  lost 
much,  but  have  many  blessings  still  left,  your  love  not  the 
least ;  and  my  grandchildren  are  scarcely  less  dear  than 
my  own.  Lucy,  dear,  here  is  Elsie." 

"Yes,  our  own  dear,  darling  Elsie,  scarcely  changed 
at  all ! "  Lucy  cried,  springing  up  to  greet  her  friend 
with  a  warm  embrace. 

A  long  talk  followed,  Mrs.  Carrington  and  Sophie  giv- 
ing their  experiences  of  the  war  and  its  results,  to  which 
the  others  listened  with  deep  interest. 

"Thank  God  it  is  over  at  last !  "  concluded  the  elder 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  319 

lady ;  "  and  oh,  may  He,  in  His  great  goodness  and 
mercy,  spare  us  a  repetition  of  it.  Oh,  the  untold  hor- 
rors of  civil  war — strife  among  brethren  who  should 
know  nothing  but  love  for  each  other — none  can  imagine 
but  those  who  have  passed  through  them !  There  was 
fault  on  both  sides,  as  there  always  is  when  people  quar- 
rel. And  what  has  been  gained  ?  Immense  loss  of 
property,  and  of  far  more  precious  lives,  an  exchange  of 
ease  and  luxury  for  a  hard  struggle  with  poverty." 

"  But  it  is  over,  dear  mother,  and  the  North  will  help 
the  South  to  recuperate,"  said  Lucy.  "Phil  says  so, 
and  I've  heard  it  from  others  too ;  just  as  soon  as  the 
struggle  ended,  people  were  saying,  'Now  they  have 
given  up,  the  Union  is  safe,  and  we're  sorry  for  them 
and  will  do  all  we  can  to  help  them ;  for  they  are  our 
own  people.' " 

"  Yes,  I  have  been  most  agreeably  surprised  at  the 
kind  feeling  here,"  her  mother  answered  ;  "  nobody  has 
had  a  hard  word  to  say  of  us,  so  far  as  I  have  been  able 
to  learn ;  and  I  have  seen  nothing  like  exultation  over  a 
fallen  foe ;  but  on  the  contrary  there  seems  a  desire  to 
lend  us  a  helping  hand  and  set  us  on  our  feet  again." 

"Indeed,  mother,  I  assure  you  that  is  so,"  said  Sophie. 

"And  all  through  the  war,"  added  Lucy,  "there  was 
but  little  hard  feeling  towards  the  people  of  the  South  ; 
*  deceived  and  betrayed  by  their  leaders,  they  are  more 
to  be  pitied  than  blamed,'  was  the  opinion  commonly  ex- 
pressed by  those  who  stood  by  the  government." 

"  And  papa  says  there  will  be  no  confiscation  of  prop- 
erty," Sophie  said,  "  unless  it  may  be  merely  that  of  the 
leaders ;  and  that  he  will  help  us  to  restore  Ashlands  to 


320  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

what  it  was :  so  you  will  have  your  own  home  again, 
mother." 

"  How  generous  !  I  can  never  repay  the  obligation," 
Mrs.  Carrington  said,  in  a  choking  voice. 

"  But  you  need  not  feel  overburdened  by  it,  dear 
mother.  It  is  for  Herbert,  you  know,  his  own  grand- 
son." 

"  And  mine !  Ah,  this  news  fills  me  with  joy  and 
gratitude." 

"  Yes,  I  feel  papa's  kindness  very  much,"  Sophie 
said,  "and  hope  my  son  will  never  give  him  cause  to  re- 
gret it." 

Elsie  rose.  "  I  hear  my  baby  crying,  and  know  that 
he  wants  his  mother.  Dear  Mrs.  Carrington,  you  are 
looking  very  weary ;  and  it  is  more  than  an  hour  yet  to 
dinner-time ;  will  you  not  lie  down  and  rest  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  and  afterwards  you  must  show  me  your  chil- 
dren. I  want  to  see  them." 

"  Thank  you ;  I  shall  do  so  with  much  pleasure,"  the 
young  mother  answered  smilingly,  as  she  hastened  from 
the  room ;  for  Baby  Harold's  cries  were  growing  impor- 
tunate. 

This  was  the  regular  hour  for  Eddie^and  Vi  to  take  a 
nap,  and  Elsie  found  them  lying  quietly  in  their  little 
bed,  while  the  screaming  babe  stoutly  resisted  the  united 
efforts  of  his  elder  sister  and  Aunt  Chloe  to  pacify  and 
amuse  him. 

"Give  him  to  me,  mammy,"  she  said,  seating  herself 
by  the  open  window ;  "  it  is  his  mother  he  wants." 

Little  Elsie,  ever  concerned  for  her  mother's  happiness, 
studied  the  dear  face  intently  for  a  moment,  and  seeing 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  321 

the  traces  of  tears,  drew  near  and,  putting  an  arm  about 
her  neck,  "  Mamma,"  she  said  tenderly,  "  dear  mamma, 
what  troubles  you ?  May  I  know  about  it?  " 

Mrs.  Travilla  explained  briefly,  telling  of  Mrs.  Car- 
rington's  trials,  and  of  those  of  other  old  friends  and 
neighbors  in  the  South. 

"Mamma,"  said  the  child,  with  eyes  filled  to  over- 
flowing, "I  am  very  sorry  for  them  all,  and  for  you. 
Mamma,  it  is  like  Jesus  to  shed  tears  for  other  people's 
troubles  j  but,  mamma,  I  think  it  is  too  much ;  there  are 
so  many,  it  makes  you  sorry  all  the  time,  and  I  can't 
bear  it." 

The  mother's  only  answer  was  a  silent  caress,  and  the 
child  went  on  :  "I  hope  nobody  else  will  come  with  such 
sad  stories  to  make  you  cry.  Is  there  anybody  else  to  do 
it,  mamma?" 

"I  think  not,  dear;  there  are  only  Aunt  Wealthy, 
who  has  not  lost  any  near  friend  lately,  and — Why  there 
she  is  now  !  the  dear  old  soul !  "  she  broke  off  joyously, 
for  at  that  instant  a  carriage,  which  she  had  been  watch- 
ing coming  up  the  drive,  drew  up  before  the  door,  and  a 
young  gentleman  and  a  little  old  lady  alighted. 

Aunt  Chloe  took  the  babe,  and  Elsie  hastened  down  to 
meet  her  aunt,  her  little  daughter  following. 

To  the  child's  great  relief  it  was  an  altogether  joyous 
greeting  this  time  ;  both  Miss  Stanhope,  and  her  escort, 
Harry  Duncan,  were  looking  very  happy,  which  caused 
her  to  regard  them  with  much  satisfaction,  and  the  kisses 
asked  of  her  were  given  very  readily. 

"Were  you  expecting  us  to-day,  Mrs.  Allison?" 
Harry  asked,  turning  to  Adelaide. 


322  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"Yes;  I  received  your  telegram." 

"Business  hurried  us  off  two  days  sooner  than  we  ex- 
pected," said  Miss  Stanhope.  "I  would  have  written, 
but  was  so  very  busy  with  papers  and  painterers  doing 
the  house  all  up  new ;  and  putting  down  new  curtains, 
and  tacking  up  new  carpets,  till,  Elsie,  the  old  place 
would  hardly  know  you." 

The  old  lady's  heart  was  evidently  full  to  overflowing, 
with  happiness  at  the  prospect  of  seeing  May  installed 
as  future  mistress  in  the  pretty  cottage  at  Lansdale. 

Yet  there  was  no  lack  of  sympathy  in  the  sorrows  or 
joys  of  others ;  she  wept  with  them  all  over  their  losses 
past  and  prospective ;  for  she,  too,  saw  that  Harold  must 
soon  pass  away  from  earth,  and  while  rejoicing  with  him, 
when  she  learned  how  gladly  he  would  obey  the  sum- 
mons, her  heart  yet  bled  for  those  to  whom  he  was  so 
dear. 

Richard  and  his  bride  arrived  in  due  season.  The 
latter  had  lost  no  near  relative  by  the  war,  and — to  wee 
Elsie's  delight — the  meeting  between  "Aunt  Lottie  and 
mamma,"  seemed  one  of  unalloyed  pleasure. 

Unlike  those  of  her  older  sisters,  May's  was  a  private 
wedding — none  but  the  family  and  a  few  near  relatives 
and  connections  being  present.  Though  deeply  attached 
to  Harry,  and  trusting  him  fully,  much  of  sadness  was 
unavoidably  mingled  with  her  happiness  as  she  prepared 
for  her  bridal.  It  could  not  be  otherwise,  as  she  thought 
of  Fred  in  his  soldier  grave,  Harold  soon  to  follow,  and 
Sophie — whose  had  been  the  last  wedding  in  the  paternal 
home,  and  so  gay  and  joyous  a  one — now  in  her  widow's 
weeds  and  well-nigh  broken-hearted. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  323 

"  Mine  will  not  be  a  gay  bridal,"  May  had  said,  in  ar- 
ranging her  plans;  "  and  I  will  just  wear  my  traveling 
suit." 

But  Harold  objected.  "  No,  no,  May ;  I  want  to  see 
you  dressed  as  Rose  and  Sophie  were — in  white,  with 
veil  and  orange  blossoms.  Why  shouldn't  your  beauty 
be  set  off  to  the  best  advantage  as  well  as  theirs,  even 
though  only  the  eyes  of  those  who  love  you  will  look 
upon  it?  " 

And  so  it  was ;  for  Harold's  wishes  were  sacred  now. 

They  were  married  in  the  morning;  and  after  a 
sumptuous  breakfast  the  bridal  attire  was  exchanged  for 
the  traveling  suit,  and  the  new-made  husband  and  wife 
set  out  upon  their  wedding  trip.  It  was  very  sad  for 
poor  May  to  leave,  not  only  childhood's  home,  parents, 
and  brothers  and  sisters  whose  lease  of  life  seemed  as 
likely  to  be  long  as  her  own,  but  to  part  from  the  dying 
one  to  whom  she  was  most  tenderly  attached. 

But  Harry  promised  to  bring  her  back  ;  and  she  was 
to  be  immediately  summoned,  in  case  of  any  marked  un- 
favorable change  in  the  invalid. 

Then,  too,  Harold  was  so  serenely  happy  in  the  pros- 
pect before  him,  and  talked  so  constantly  of  it  as  only 
going  home  a  little  while  before  the  rest,  and  of  how  at 
length  all  would  be  reunited  in  that  better  land,  to  spend 
together  an  eternity  of  bliss,  that  it  had  robbed  death  of 
half  its  gloom  and  terror. 

It  was  Harold's  earnest  desire  that  all  his  dear  ones 
thould  be  as  gay  and  happy  as  though  he  were  in  health ; 
he  would  not  willingly  cast  a  shadow  over  the  pathway  of 
any  of  them,  for  a  day ;  especially  the  newly  married, 


324  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

whose  honeymoon,  he  said,  ought  to  be  a  very  bright 
spot  for  them  to  look  back  upon  in  all  after  years. 

So  Lottie  felt  it  right  to  let  her  heart  swell  with  glad- 
ness in  the  new  love  that  crowned  her  life ;  and  the  time 
passed  cheerfully  and  pleasantly  to  the  guests  at  Elmgrove. 

Mrs.  Ross  and  her  mother,  and  Miss  Stanhope,  re- 
mained for  a  fortnight  after  the  wedding.  All  were 
made  to  feel  themselves  quite  at  home  in  both  houses ; 
the  two  families  were  much  like  one,  and  usually  spent 
their  evenings  together,  in  delightful  social  intercourse ; 
Harold  in  their  midst  on  his  couch,  or  reclining  in  an 
easy  chair,  an  interested  listener  to  the  talk  and  occasion- 
ally joining  in  it. 

One  evening  when  they  were  thus  gathered  about  him, 
Mrs.  Carrington,  looking  compassionately  upon  the  pale, 
patient  face,  remarked,  "  You  suffer  a  great  deal,  Cap- 
tain Allison  ?" 

"  Yes,  a  good  deal,"  he  answered  cheerfully,  "  but 
not  more  than  I  can  easily  endure,  remembering  that  it 
is  '  whom  the  Lord  loveth  He  chasteneth.'  " 

"  You  take  a  very  Christian  view  of  it ;  but  do  your 
sufferings  arouse  no  bitterness  of  feeling  towards  the 
South?" 

"Oh,  no!"  he  answered,  earnestly,  "why  should 
they?  The  people  of  the  South  were  not  responsible  for 
what  was  done  at  Andersonville ;  perhaps  the  Confeder- 
ate government  was  so  only  in  a  measure ;  and  Wirtz  was 
a  foreigner.  Besides,  there  was  a  great  deal  endured  by 
rebel  prisoners  in  some  of  our  Northern  prisons. 
Father,"  turning  to  the  elder  Mr.  Allison,  "please  tell 
Mrs.  Carrington  about  your  visit  toElmira." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  325 

The  others  had  been  chatting  among  themselves,  but 
all  paused  to  listen  as  Mr.  Allison  began  his  narra- 
tive. 

"  We  learned  that  a  young  relative  of  my  wife  was 
confined  there,  and  ill.  I  went  at  once  to  see  what  could 
be  done  for  him,  and  finding  the  prison  in  charge  of  a 
gentleman  who  was  under  much  obligation  to  me,  gained 
admittance  without  much  difficulty.  It  was  a  wretched 
place,  and  the  prisoners  were  but  poorly  fed ;  which  was 
far  more  inexcusable  here  than  at  the  South,  where  food 
was  scarce  in  their  own  army  and  among  the  people." 

"I  know  that  to  have  been  the  case,"  said  Mrs.  Car- 
rington.  "  The  farmers  were  not  allowed  to  make  use 
of  their  grain  for  their  own  families,  till  a  certain  pro- 
portion had  been  taken  for  the  army ;  and  there  were 
families  among  us  who  did  not  taste  meat  for  a  year." 

"  Yes;  the  war  has  been  hard  for  us,  but  far  harder 
upon  them.  I  found  our  young  friend  in  a  very  weak 
state.  I  succeeded  in  getting  permission  to  remove  him 
to  more  comfortable  quarters,  and  did  so ;  but  he  lived 
scarcely  two  days  after." 

"  How  very  sad,"  remarked  Elsie,  with  emotion. 
"  Oh,  what  a  terrible  thing  is  war  !  " 

"Especially  civil  war,"  said  the  elder  Mrs.  Allison; 
"  strife  among  brethren ;  its  fruits  are  bitter,  heart-rend- 
ing." 

"And  being  all  one  people  there  was  equal  bravery, 
talent,  and  determination  on  both  sides  ;  which  made  the 
struggle  a  very  desperate  one,"  said  Harold. 

"And  the  military  tic-tacs  were  the  same,"  added 
Aunt  Wealthy ;  "  and  then  speaking  the  same  language, 


326  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

and  looking  so  much  alike,  foes  were  sometimes  mistaken 
for  friends,  and  versa-vice." 

"A  brother-in-law  of  Louise's  was  confined  in  Fort 
Delaware  for  some  months,"  said  Adelaide,  address- 
ing her  brother,  "  and  wrote  to  me  for  some  articles  of 
clothing  he  needed  badly,  adding,  'If  you  could  send 
me  something  to  eat,  it  would  be  most  thankfully  re- 
ceived.' I  sent  twice,  but  neither  package  ever  reached 
him." 

"Too  bad!  too  bad!"  said  Mr.  Dinsmore;  "yet 
very  likely  it  was  through  no  fault  of  the  govern- 
ment." 

"No;  I  am  satisfied  that  individuals — selfish,  un- 
scrupulous men  of  whom  there  were  far  too  many  on 
both  sides,  were  the  real  culprits,  and  that  the  govern- 
ment intended  every  prisoner  should  be  made  as  com- 
fortable as  circumstances  would  permit,"  said  Mr.  Al- 
lison. "But  there  are  men  who  made  large  fortunes  by 
swindling  the  government  and  robbing  our  brave  soldiers  ; 
men  unworthy  of  the  name !  who  would  sell  their  own 
souls  for  gold  !  " 

"  You  are  right,  sir  !  "  said  Mr.  Tra villa ;  "  one  who 
could  take  advantage  of  the  necessities  of  his  own 
country,  to  enrich  himself  by  robbing  her,  is  not  worthy 
to  be  called  a  man." 

"  And  I  esteem  an  officer  who  could  rob  the  soldiers 
very  little  better,"  said  Daisy.  "Again  and  again 
canned  fruits  and  other  niceties,  sent  by  ladies  for  the 
comfort  of  the  sick  and  wounded  men,  were  appropriated 
by  officers  who  did  not  need  them,  and  knew  they  were 
not  given  to  them." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 


327 


"And  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter,"  said 
Harold,  with  his  placid,  patient  smile,  "is  that  there 
were  on  both  sides  men  who,  loving  and  seeking  their  own 
interest  above  country,  personal  honor,  or  anything  else, 
would  bring  disgrace  upon  any  cause.  No,  Mrs.  Car- 
rington,  I  have  no  bitter  feeling  towards  the  South.  My 
heart  aches  for  her  people  in  their  bereavements,  their 
losses,  and  all  the  difficulties  of  reconstruction  and 
adapting  themselves  to  the  new  order  of  things  which  is 
the  result  of  the  war." 

Elsie  had  several  times  expressed  to  her  husband  and 
father  a  deep  anxiety  to  hear  from  Viamede,  and  had 
written  to  both  Mr.  Mason  and  Spriggs,  inquiring  about 
the  people  and  the  condition  of  the  estate,  yet  with  but 
slight  hope  of  reply,  as  all  communication  with  the  place 
had  been  cut  off  for  years,  and  it  was  more  than  likely 
that  one  or  both  had  been  driven,  or  drifted  away  from 
his  post  during  the  progress  of  the  war. 

She  was  therefore  greatly  pleased  when,  on  entering 
the  parlor  one  morning  on  her  return  from  a  drive,  she 
found  Mr.  Mason  there  waiting  for  an  interview. 

"You  are  not  direct  from  Viamede!"  she  asked, 
when  they  had  exchanged  a  cordial  greeting. 

"  No,  Mrs.  Tra  villa,"  he  answered ;  "I  stayed  as  long 
as  I  could,  but  not  being  willing  to  go  into  the  army, 
was  finally  compelled  to  leave.  That  was  more  than 
two  years  ago.  But  I  received  a  letter  from  Spriggs  only 
yesterday,  written  from  the  estate.  He  was  in  the  Con- 
federate service ;  and  when  the  struggle  was  over,  went 
back  to  Viamede. 

"  He  says  it  was  not  visited  by  either  army,  and  has 


328  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

suffered  only  from  ueglect.  The  old  house-servants  are 
still  there — Aunt  Phillis,  Aunt  Sally,  and  the  rest ;  many 
of  the  field  hands,  too,  occupying  their  old  quarters,  but 
looking  ragged  and  forlorn  enough. 

"  They  are  willing  to  work  for  wages,  and  Spriggs  begs 
of  me  to  find  out  where  you  are,  and  tell  you  that,  if  you 
wish  it  and  will  furnish  the  means,  he  will  hire  them, 
and  do  the  best  he  can  to  restore  the  place  and  make  it 
profitable  to  you. 

"I  saw  your  name  in  the  list  of  arrivals  by  a  late 
steamer,  and  with  some  little  painstaking,  at  length 
learned  where  you  were." 

"I  am  very  glad  you  have  come,  Mr.  Mason;  and  I 
am  inclined  to  think  well  of  Mr.  Spriggs'  proposition," 
Elsie  answered;  "but  I  must  consult  my — Ah,  here 
they  are !  "  as  the  husband  and  father  entered  the  room 
together. 

The  matter  was  under  discussion  for  the  next  half- 
hour,  when  it  was  decided  to  accept  Mr.  Spriggs'  pro- 
posal, for  the  present  at  least. 

Elsie  then  said  to  Mr.  Mason  that  she  hoped  he  was 
not  engaged,  as  she  would  be  glad  to  have  him  return  to 
Viamede  and  resume  his  former  duties  there. 

He  colored  and  laughed,  as  he  answered,  "  I  am  en- 
gaged, Mrs.  Travilla,  though  not  in  the  sense  you  mean, 
and  shall  be  glad  to  comply  with  your  wish,  if  you  do- 
not  object  to  my  taking  a  wife  with  me." 

"  Not  at  all,"  she  answered,  smiling ;  "the  Bible  says, 
'it  is  not  good  for  man  to  be  alone,'  and  I  hope  you  will 
be  all  the  happier  and  more  useful  in  the  Master's  serv- 
ice for  having  a  better-half  with  you.  A  suite  of  rooms 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  329 

shall  be  placed  at  your  service  and  your  wants  attended 
to  as  formerly." 

Mr.  Mason  returned  warm  thanks  for  her  kindness,  and 
took  his  departure,  evidently  well-pleased  with  the  result 
of  his  call. 


CHAPTER  THIRTIETH. 

"  War,  war,  war ! 
Misery,  murder,  and  crime ; 
Crime,  murder,  and  woe." 

THE  Travillas  accompanied  Miss  Stanhope  on  her  re- 
tvnn  to  Lansdale,  and  were  there  to  assist  at  the  reception 
of  Harry  and  his  bride.  After  that,  a  few  weeks  were 
spent  by  them  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ross. 

They  then  returned  to  Elmgrove,  where,  detained, 
partly  by  business  matters,  partly  by  Harold's  condition 
and  his  earue»t  wish  to  have  them  all  near  him  to  the 
last,  they  lingered  until  September. 

Harold  "went  home,"  early  in  that  month,  dying  as 
calmly  and  quietly  as  "  fades  a  summer  cloud  away,"  or 
"sinks  the  gale  when  storms  are  o'er." 

He  was  buried  with  military  honors,  and  the  friends 
returned  to  the  house,  sorely  to  miss,  indeed,  the  wasted 
form,  and  wan,  yet  patient,  eheerful  face,  and  the  loved 
voice,  ever  ready  with  words  of  consolation  and  hope ;  but 
while  weeping  over  their  own  present  bereavement,  rejoic- 
ing in  his  joy  and  the  assurance  of  a  blessed  reunion  in  a 
better  land,  when  they,  too,  should  be  able  to  say,  "I 
have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course :  I 
have  kept  the  faith." 

It  was  a  melancholy  satisfaction  to  Rose  that  she  had 
been  with  him  almost  constantly  during  the  last  three 
months  of  his  life ;  her  husband  had  not  hurried  her ; 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  331 

but  now  both  they,  and  Mr.  Travilla  and  Elsie,  felt  that 
the  time  had  come  when  they  should  hasten  their  return 
to  their  own  homes. 

They  set  out  the  next  week;  not  a  gay  party,  but 
filled  with  a  subdued,  quiet  cheerfulness.  Some  of  their 
dear  ones,  but  lately  journeying  with  them  towards  the 
Celestial  City,  had  reached  the  gates  and  entered  in ;  but 
they  were  following  after,  and  would  overtake  them  at 
length ;  and,  though  the  way  might  be  at  times  rough 
and  stony  to  their  weary  feet,  the  path  compassed  by  foes 
both  wily  and  strong,  yet  there  was  with  them  One 
mightier  than  all  the  hosts  of  hell,  and  who  had  promised 
never  to  leave  nor  forsake.  "  In  all  these  things  they 
should  be  more  than  conquerors,  through  Him  that  loved 
them." 

After  entering  Virginia,  they  saw  all  along  the  route 
the  sad  ravages  of  the  war,  and  their  hearts  sent  up  ear- 
nest petitions  that  those  waste  places  might  speedily  be  re- 
stored, and  their  dear  native  land  never  again  be  visited 
with  that  fearful  scourge. 

The  scenes  grew  more  saddening  as  they  neared  their 
journey's  end,  and  could  recognize,  in  the  ruined  houses 
and  plantations,  the  wrecks  of  the  former  happy  homes 
of  friends  and  neighbors. 

They  all  went  directly  to  the  Oaks,  where  the  Tra- 
villas  were  to  find  a  home  until  Ion  could  be  made  again 
comfortably  habitable.  It  was  late  in  the  afternoon  of  a 
cloudy,  showery  day  that  they  found  themselves  actually 
rolling  quietly  along  the  broad  winding  drive  that  led 
through  the  grounds  to  the  noble  mansion  tbey  had  left 
more  than  five  years  before. 


332  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Even  here  there  were  sad  signs  of  neglect :  the 
grounds  had  forgotten  their  former  neat  and  trim  ap- 
pearance, and  the  house  needed  paint  and  some  slight 
repairs.  But  this  was  all ;  and  they  felt  it  a  cause  for 
thankfulness  that  things  were  no  worse. 

A  group  of  relatives  and  retainers  were  gathered  in 
the  veranda  to  greet  them ;  an  aged,  white-haired  man 
the  central  figure,  around  him  three  ladies  in  deep 
mourning,  a  one-armed  gentleman,  and  a  crowd  of 
children  of  both  sexes  and  all  ages,  from  the  babe  in 
arms  to  the  youth  of  sixteen ;  while  in  the  rear  could  be 
seen  Mrs.  Murray's  portly  figure,  and  strong,  sensible 
Scotch  face,  beaming  with  pleasure,  relieved  by  a  back- 
ground of  dusky  faces,  lighted  up  with  joy  and 
expectation. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  alighted  first,  gave  his  hand  to  his  wife, 
and  leaving  young  Horace  to  attend  to  Rosebud,  ha- 
stened to  meet  his  father. 

The  old  man  tottered  forward  and  fell  upon  his  neck, 
weeping  bitterly.  "  My  son,  my  son,  my  only  one  now; 
I  have  lost  all — everything — wife,  sons,  home ;  all  swept 
away,  nothing  left  to  my  old  age  but  you." 

"Yes,  that's  it  always,"  sneered  a  sharp  voice  near  at 
hand;  "daughters  count  for  nothing;  grandchildren 
are  equally  valuable.  Sons,  houses,  and  lands  are  the 
only  possessions  worth  having." 

"Enna,  how  can  you  !  "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Howard. 

But  neither  father  nor  brother  seemed  to  hear,  or  heed 
the  unkind,  unfilial  remark.  The  old  man  was  sobbing 
on  his  son's  shoulder;  he  soothing  him  as  tenderly  as 
ever  he  had  soothed  wife  or  daughter. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  333 

"  My  home  is  yours  as  long  as  you  choose  to  make  it 
so,  my  dear  father ;  and  Roselands  shall  be  restored,  and 
your  old  age  crowned  with  the  love  and  reverence  of 
children  and  children's  children." 

Hastily  recovering  himself,  the  old  gentleman  released, 
his  son,  gave  an  affectionate  greeting  to  Rose,  and  catch-j 
ing  sight  of  young  Horace,  now  a  handsome  youth  of 
nineteen,  embraced  him,  exclaiming,  "Ah,  yes,  here  is 
another  son  for  me  !  one  of  whom  I  may  well  be  proud. 
Rosie,  too,  grown  to  a  great  girl !  Glad  to  see  you, 
dear."  But  the  first  carriage  had  moved  on  ;  the  second 
had  come  up  and  discharged  its  living  freight,  and  Mr. 
Travilla,  with  Vi  in  his  arms,  Elsie  leading  her  eldest 
daughter  and  son,  had  stepped  upon  the  veranda,  fol- 
lowed by  Dinah  with  the  babe. 

"Dear  grandpa,"  Mrs.  Travilla  said,  in  tender, 
tremulous  tones,  dropping  her  children's  hands  to  put 
her  arms  about  his  neck,  as  he  turned  from  Rosebud  to 
her,  "my  poor,  dear  grandpa,  we  will  all  try  to  comfort 
you,  and  make  your  old  age  bright  and  happy.  See, 
here  are  your  great-grandchildren  ready  to  rise  up  and 
call  you  blessed." 

"  God  bless  you,  child  !  "  he  said,  in  quivering  tones, 
embracing  her  with  more  affection  than  ever  before. 
"And  this,"  laying  his  hand  on  wee  Elsie's  head,  "is 
yourself  as  you  were  at  the  same  age." 

"  I'm  very  sorry  for  you,  dear  old  grandpa ;  mamma  has 
told  me  all  about  it,"  the  little  girl  softly  whispered, 
putting  her  small  arms  about  his  neck  as  he  stooped  to 
give  her  a  kiss. 

"  Me  too,"  Eddie  put  in,  offering  his  hand  and  lips. 


334  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

"That's  right;  good  boy;  good  children.  How  are 
you,  Travilla?  You've  come  back  to  find  ruin  and 
desolation  where  you  left  beauty  and  prosperity;  "  and 
the  aged  voice  shook  with  emotion. 

Mr.  Travilla  had  a  kindly,  hearty  hand-shake,  and 
gentle  sympathizing  words  for  him,  then  presented  Vi  and 
Baby  Harold. 

Meanwhile  the  greetings  were  being  exchanged  by  the 
others.  Lora  met  her  brother,  and  both  Rose  and  Elsie, 
with  the  warm  affection  of  earlier  days,  mingled  with 
grief  for  the  losses  and  sorrows  that  had  befallen  since 
they  parted. 

Mr.  Howard,  too,  was  cordial  in  his  greeting,  but 
Louise  and  Enna  met  them  with  coldness  and  disdain, 
albeit  they  were  mere  pensioners  upon  Horace's  bounty, 
self-invited  guests  in  his  house. 

Louise  gave  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  each,  in  sullen 
silence,  while  Enna  drew  back  from  the  offered  hands, 
muttering,  "A  set  of  Yankees  come  to  spy  out  the 
nakedness  of  the  land ;  don't  give  a  hand  to  them,  chil- 
dren." 

"  As  you  like,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  answered  indifferently, 
stepping  past  her  to  speak  to  Mrs.  Murray  and  the  serv- 
ants ;  "  you  know  I  will  do  a  brother's  part  by  my  wid- 
owed sisters  all  the  same." 

"For  shame,  Enna!  "  said  Lora;  "you  are  here  in 
Horace's  house,  and  neither  he  nor  the  others  ever  took 
part  against  us." 

,  "I  don't  care,  it  was  nearly  as  bad  to  stay  away  and 
give  no  help,"  muttered  the  offender,  giving  Elsie  a  look 
of  scorn  and  aversion. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  335 

"Be  quiet,  will  you,  Madam  Johnson,"  said  her  old 
father;  "it  would  be  no  more  than  right  if  Horace 
should  turn  you  out  of  the  house.  Elsie,"  seeing  tears 
coursing  the  cheeks  of  the  latter,  "don't  distress  your- 
self, child  ;  she's  not  worth  minding." 

"That  is  quite  true,  little  wife,"  said  Mr.  Travilla; 
»'  and  though  you  have  felt  for  her  sorrows,  do  not  let 
her  unkindness  wound  you." 

Elsie  wiped  away  her  tears,  but  only  waiting  to  speak 
to  Mrs.  Murray  and  the  servants,  retired  immediately  to 
(the  privacy  of  her  own  apartments,  Mr.  Travilla  ac- 
companying her  with  their  children  and  attendants. 

Wearied  with  her  journey,  and  already  saddened  by 
the  desolations  of  the  country  over  which  they  had 
•oassed,  this  cold,  and  even  insulting  reception  from  the 
aunts — over  whose  bereavements  she  had  wept  in  tender 
sympathy — cut  her  to  the  quick. 

"  Oh,  Edward,  how  can  they  behave  so  to  papa  and 
mamma  in  their  own  house  !  "  she  said,  sitting  down 
upon  a  sofa  in  her  boudoir  and  laying  aside  her  hat, 
while  her  eyes  again  overflowed;  "dear  papa  and 
mamma,  who  are  always  so  kind !  " 

"And  you,  too,  dearest,"  he  said,  placing  himself  by 
her  side  and  putting  an  arm  about  her.  "  It  is  shame- 
ful conduct,  but  do  not  allow  it  to  trouble  you." 

"  I  will  try  not  to  mind  it,  but  let  me  cry;  I  shall  get 
over  it  the  sooner.  I  never  thought  to  feel  so  uncomfort- 
able in  my  father's  house.  Ah,  if  Ion  were  only  ready 
for  us  !  "  she  sighed. 

"  I  am  glad  that  your  home  must  be  with  me  for  the 
present,  daughter,  if  you  can  only  enjoy  it,"  said  her 


f 

336  £LSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

father,  who,  still  ever  watchful  over  her  happiness,  had 
followed  to  soothe  and  comfort  her.  "  It  grieves  me  that 
your  feelings  should  have  been  so  wounded,"  he  added, 
seating  himself  on  the  other  side,  and  taking  her  hand  in 
his. 

"  Thank  you,  dear  papa ;  it  is  for  you  and  mamma, 
even  more  than  myself,  that  I  feel  hurt." 

"Then  never  mind  it,  dearest.  Enna  has  already 
coolly  told  me  that  she  and  Louise  have  settled  them- 
selves in  the  west  wing,  with  their  children  and  serv- 
ants ;  where  they  purpose  to  maintain  a  separate  estab- 
lishment, having  no  desire  to  associate  with  any  of  us ; 
though  I,  of  course,  am  to  supply  their  table  at  my  own 
expense,  as  well  as  whatever  else  is  needed,"  he  added, 
with  a  slight  laugh  of  mingled  amusement  and  vexation. 

"  Considering  it  a  great  privilege  to  be  permitted  to  do 
so,  I  presume,"  Mr.  Travilla  remarked,  a  little  sarcastic- 
ally. 

"  Of  course ;  for  cool  impudence  Enna  certainly  ex- 
ceeds every  other  person  of  my  acquaintance." 

"You  must  let  us  share  the  privilege." 

j<  Thanks ;  but  we  will  talk  of  that  at  another  time. 
I  know  you  and  Elsie  have  dreaded  the  bad  influence  of 
Enna's  spoiled  children  upon  yours ;  and  I,  too,  hare 
feared  it  for  them,  and  for  Rosebud  ;  but  there  is  to  be 
no  communication  between  theirs  and  ours ;  Louise's  one 
set,  and  Enna's  two,  keeping  to  their  own  side  of  the 
building  and  grounds,  and  ours  not  intruding  upon  them. 
Enna  had  it  all  arranged,  and  simply  made  the  announce- 
ment to  me,  probably  with  little  idea  of  the  relief  she 
was  affording." 


I 

ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  337 

"It  is  a  great  relief,"  said  Elsie.  "Aunt  Lora's  are 
better  trained,  and  will  not " 

"They  do  not  remain  with  us;  Pinegrove  is  still 
habitable,  and  they  are  here  only  for  to-day  to  welcome 
us  home." 

Elsie's  face  lighted  up  with  pleasure.  "And  we  shall 
have  our  own  dear  home  to  ourselves,  after  all  1  Ah, 
how  foolish  I  have  been  to  so  borrow  trouble." 

"I  have  shared  the  folly,"  her  father  said,  smiling; 
"  but  let  us  be  wiser  for  the  future.  They  have  already 
retired  to  their  own  quarters,  and  you  will  see  no  more 
of  them  for  the  present.  My  father  remains  with  us." 

Mrs.  Howard  was  deeply  mortified  by  the  conduct  of 
her  sisters,  but  tried  to  excuse  them  to  those  whom  they 
were  treating  with  such  rudeness  and  ingratitude. 

"Louise  and  Enna  are  very  bitter,"  she  said,  talking 
with  Rose  and  Elsie  in  the  drawing-room  after  tea; 
"  but  they  have  suffered  much  in  the  loss  of  their  hus- 
bands and  our  brothers;  to  say  nothing  of  property. 
Sherman's  soldiers  were  very  lawless — some  of  them,  I 
mean ;  and  they  were  not  all  Americans — and  inflicted 
much  injury.  Enna  was  very  rude  and  exasperating  to 
the  party  who  visited  Roselands,  and  was  roughly  handled 
in  consequence ;  robbed  of  her  watch  and  all  her  jewelry 
and  money. 

"  They  treated  our  poor  old  father  with  great  indignity 
also;  dragged  him  down  the  steps  of  the  veranda,  took 
his  watch,  rifled  his  pockets,  plundered  the  house,  then 
set  it  on  fire  and  burned  it  to  the  ground." 

Her  listeners  wept  as  she  went  on  to  describe  more 
minutely  the  scenes  of  violence  at  Roselands,  Ashlands, 


338  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

Pinegrove,  and  other  plantations  and  towns  in  the 
vicinity ;  among  them  the  residences  of  the  pastor  and 
his  venerable  elder,  whose  visits  were  so  comforting  to 
Mrs.  Travilla  in  her  last  sickness. 

"They  were  Union  men,"  Lora  said,  in  conclusion, 
"  spending  their  time  and  strength  in  self-denying  efforts 
for  the  spiritual  good  of  both  whites  and  blacks,  and  had 
suffered  much  at  the  hands  of  the  Confederates;  yet 
were  stripped  of  everything  by  Sherman's  troops,  threat- 
ened with  instant  death,  and  finally  left  to  starve,  actually 
being  without  food  for  several  days." 

"Dreadfull"  exclaimed  Rose.  "I  could  not  have 
believed  any  of  our  officers  would  allow  such  things. 
But  war  is  very  cruel,  and  gives  opportunity  to  wicked, 
cruel  men,  on  both  sides  to  indulge  their  evil  propensities 
and  passions.  Thank  God,  it  is  over  at  last ;  and  oh, 
may  He,  in  His  great  goodness  and  mercy,  spare  us  a  re- 
newal, of  it." 

"I  say  amen  to  that !  "  responded  Mrs.  Howard  ear- 
nestly. "  My  poor  Ned  !  my  brothers  !  my  crippled  hus- 
band Oh,  I  sometimes  think  my  heart  will  break  !  " 

It  was  some  minutes  ere  she  could  speak  again,  for 
weeping,  and  the  others  wept  with  her. 
'  But  resuming.  "We  were  visited  by  both  armies," 
she  said,  "and  one  did  about  as  much  mischief  as  the 
other ;  and  between  them  there  is  but  little  left :  they  did 
not  burn  us  out  at  Pinegrove,  but  stripped  us  very  bare." 

"Aunt  Lora,  dear  Aunt  Lora  !  "  Elsie  sobbed,  em- 
bracing her  with  much  tenderness  ;  "  we  cannot  restore 
the  loved  ones,  but  your  damages  shall  be  repaired." 

"Ah,  it  will  take  a  lifetime  ;  we  have  no  means  left." 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  339 

"  You  shall  borrow  of  me  without  interest.  With  the 
exception  of  the  failure  of  income  from  Viamede,  I  have 
lost  nothing  by  the  war  but  the  negroes.  My  husband's 
losses  are  somewhat  heavier.  But  our  united  income  is 
still  very  large ;  so  that  I  believe  I  can  help  you  all,  and 
I  shall  delight  to  do  it,  even  should  it  involve  the  sale  of 
most  of  my  jewels." 

"Dear  child,  you  are  very  very  kind,"  Lora  said, 
deeply  moved  ;  "  and  it  may  be  that  Edward,  proud  as 
he  is,  will  accept  some  assistance  from  you." 

The  next  morning  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Rose,  Mr.  Tra- 
villa  and  Elsie,  mounted  their  horses  directly  after  break- 
fast, and  set  out  to  view  for  themselves  the  desolations  of 
Roselands  and  Ion,  preparatory  to  considering  what 
could  be  done  to  restore  them  to  their  former  beauty. 

Roselands  lying  nearest,  received  their  attention  first, 
but  so  greatly  were  the  well-remembered  landmarks 
changed,  that  on  arriving,  they  could  scarce  believe  them- 
selves there. 

Not  one  of  the  noble  old  trees,  that  had  bordered  the 
avenue  and  shaded  the  lawn,  was  left  standing ;  many 
lay  prostrate  upon  the  ground,  while  others  had  been 
used  for  fuel.  Of  the  house  naught  remained  but  a  few 
feet  of  stone  wall,  some  charred,  blackened  beams,  and  a 
heap  of  ashes.  The  gardens  were  a  desert,  the  lawn  was 
changed  to  a  muddy  field  by  the  tramping  of  many  feet, 
and  furrowed  w'th  deep  ruts  where  the  artillery  had 
passed  and  repas  id ;  fences,  hedge-rows,  shrubbery — all 
had  disappeared;  and  the  fields,  once  cultivated  with 
great  care,  were  overgrown  with  weeds  and  nettles. 

"  We  have  lost  our  way  !  this  cannot  be  the  place  1 " 


340  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD. 

cried  Rose,  as  they  reined  in  their  horses  on  the  precise 
spot  where  Arthur  and  Walter  had  taken  their  farewell 
look  at  home. 

"  Alas,  alas,  it  is  no  other  !  "  Mr.  Travilla  replied,  in 
moved  tones. 

The  hearts  of  Mr.  Dinsmore  and  Elsie  were  too  full 
for  speech,  and  hot  tears  were  coursing  down  the  cheeks 
of  the  latter. 

Mr.  Dinsmore  pressed  forward,  and  the  others  fol- 
lowed, slowly  picking  their  way  through  the  ruins,  grief 
swelling  in  their  hearts  at  every  step.  Determined  to 
know  the  worst,  they  made  the  circuit  of  the  house  and 
of  the  whole  estate. 

"Can  it  ever  be  restored?"  Elsie  asked  at  length, 
amid  her  tears. 

"  The  house  may  be  rebuilt  in  a  few  months,  and  fields 
and  gardens  cleared  of  weeds,  and  made  to  resume  some- 
thing of  the  old  look,"  Mr.  Dinsmore  answered ;  "but 
the  trees  were  the  growth  of  years,  and  this  generation 
will  not  see  their  places  filled  with  their  like." 

They  pursued  their  way  to  Ion  in  almost  unbroken  si- 
lence. Here  the  fields  presented  the  same  appearance 
of  neglect ;  lawn  and  gardens  were  a  wild,  but  scarcely 
a  tree  had  fallen,  and  though  the  house  had  been  pillaged, 
furniture  destroyed,  windows  broken,  and  floors  torn  up, 
a  few  rooms  were  still  habitable ;  and  here  they  found 
several  of  the  house-servants,  who  hailed  their  coming 
with  demonstrations  of  delight. 

They  had  lived  on  the  products  of  the  orchard  and 
grapery,  and  by  cultivating  a  small  patch  of  ground  and 
keeping  a  few  fowls. 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  341 

Elsie  assumed  an  air  of  cheerfulness,  for  her  husband's 
sake ;  rejoiced  that  the  trees  had  been  spared,  that  the 
family  burial-place  had  escaped  desecration,  and  talked 
gayly  of  the  pleasure  of  repairing  damages,  and  making  im- 
provements till  Ion  should  not  have  a  rival  for  beauty  the 
country  round. 

Her  efforts  were  appreciated,  and  met  fully  half-way, 
by  her  loving  spouse. 

The  four,  taking  possession  of  the  rustic  seat  on  the  top 
of  a  little  knoll,  where  the  huge  branches  of  a  giant  oak 
protected  them  from  the  sun,  took  a  lengthened  survey  of 
the  house  and  grounds,  and  held  a  consultation  in  regard 
to  ways  and  means. 

Returning  to  the  Oaks,  the  gentlemen  went  to  the 
library,  where  old  Mr.  Dinsmore  was  sitting  alone,  and 
reported  to  him  the  result  of  the  morning  conference. 
Roselands  was  to  be  rebuilt  as  fast  as  men  and  materials 
could  be  procured,  Elsie  furnishing  the  means — a  very 
large  sum  of  money,  of  which  he  was  to  have  the  use, 
free  of  interest,  for  a  long  term  of  years,  or  during  his 
natural  life. 

Mr.  Horace  Dinsmore  knew  his  father  would  never 
take  it  as  a  gift,  and  indeed,  it  cost  him  a  hard  struggle 
to  bring  his  pride  down  to  the  acceptance  of  it  as  offered. 
'-But  he  consented  at  last,  and  as  the  other  two  retired, 
begged  that  Elsie  would  come  to  him  for  a  moment. 

She  came  in  so  quietly  that  he  was  not  aware  of  her 
presence.  He  sat  in  the  corner  of  a  sofa,  his  white  head 
bowed  upon  his  knees,  and  his  aged  frame  shaking  with 
sobs. 

Kneeling  at  his  side,  she  put  her  arms  about  him, 


342  ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD, 

whispering,  "  Grandpa,  my  poor,  dear  grandpa,  be  com- 
forted ;  for  we  all  love  and  honor  you. ' ' 

"  Child !  child  !  I  have  not  deserved  this  at  your 
hands,"  he  sobbed.  "  I  turned  from  you  when  you 
came  to  my  house,  a  little,  desolate  motherless  one, 
claiming  my  affection." 

"But  that  was  many  years  ago,  dear  grandpa,  and  we 
will  'let  the  dead  past  bury  its  dead.'  You  will  not 
deny  me  the  great  pleasure  of  helping  to  repair  the  deso- 
lations of  war  in  the  dear  home  of  my  childhood  ? 
You  will  take  it  as  help  sent  by  Him  whose  steward  I 
am?" 

He  clasped  her  close,  and  his  kisses  and  tears  were 
warm  upon  her  cheek,  as  he  murmured,  in  low,  broken 
tones,  "  God  bless  you,  child  !  I  can  refuse  you  nothing. 
You  shall  do  as  you  will." 

At  last,  Elsie  had  won  her  way  to  her  stem  grand- 
father's heart ;  and  henceforth  she  was  dear  to  him  as 
ever  one  of  his  children  had  been. 

It  is  a  sweet  October  morning  in  the  year  1867.  Ion, 
restored  to  more  than  its  pristine  loveliness,  lies  basking 
in  the  beams  of  the  newly  risen  sun  ;  a  tender  mist,  gray 
in  the  distance,  rose-colored  and  golden  where  the  rays 
of  light  strike  it  more  directly,  enveloping  the  landscape ; 
the  trees  decked  in  holiday  attire — green,  russet,  orange, 
and  scarlet. 

The  children  are  romping  with  each  other  and  their 
nurses,  in  the  avenue  ;  with  the  exception  of  wee  Elsie, 
now  a  fair,  gentle  girl  of  nine,  who  occupies  a  rustic  seat 
a  little  apart  from  the  rest.  She  has  a  Bible  in  her  hand, 


ELSIE'S  WOMANHOOD.  343 

and  the  sweet  young  face  is  bent  earnestly,  lovingly,  over 
the  holy  book. 

On  the  veranda  stands  the  mother,  watching  her  dar- 
lings with  eyes  that  grow  misty  with  glad  tears,  while  her 
heart  sends  up  its  joyous  thanksgiving  to  Him  who  had 
been  the  Guide  of  her  youth  and  the  stay  and  staff  of 
maturer  years. 

A  step  approaches,  and  her  husband's  arm  encircles 
her  waist,  while,  as  she  turns  her  head,  his  kindly  gray 
eyes  gaze  into  the  depths  of  her  soft  hazel  ones,  with  a 
love  stronger  than  life — or  than  death. 

"Do  you  know,  little  wife,  what  day  this  is?" 

She  answered  with  a  bright,  glad  smile ;  then  her  head 
dropped  upon  his  shoulder. 

"  Yes,  my  husband ;  ten  years  ago  to-day  I  committed 
my  happiness  to  your  keeping,  and  never  for  one  moment 
have  I  regretted  the  step." 

"Bless  you,  darling,  for  the  word!  How  great  are 
the  mercies  of  God  to  me  !  Yonder  is  our  first-born.  I 
see  you  as  you  were  when  first  I  met  and  coveted  you ; 
and  here  you  stand  by  my  side,  the  true  wife  who  has 
been  for  ten  years  the  joy  and  light  of  my  heart  and 
home.  Wife,  I  love  you  better  to-day  than  ever  before, 
and  if  it  be  the  will  of  God,  may  we  yet  have  five  times 
ten  years  to  live  together  in  love  and  harmony." 

"We  shall!"  she  answered  earnestly;  "eternity  is 
ours,  and  death  itself  can  part  us  but  for  a  little  while." 


THE  END. 


. 


UNIVERSITY    OF    r^ITI?nPTVITA 


University  of  California  Library 
Los  Angeles 

This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


DATE  S 


DEC1  9 '996 


UCt 


JAM  2  7  1997 


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FROM 
VED 


J\LU 


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